Supply Run
by 2Old4This2
Summary: A casual conversation with Rieekan gives Han a new insight into his relationship with Leia, just when they're going on an important mission together. How will this discovery affect their safety-and their future together? Takes place just before ESB. The prologue and epilogue are written from Carlist Rieekan's point of view.
1. Chapter 1

**Supply Run**

_A _StarWars_ Fan Fiction_

_Prologue: A Day In The Life*_

*Title respectfully borrowed from

The Beatles-_A Day In The Life__._

Every morning it was the same. He woke up, quick and alert; it was a soldier's way. Then he remembered that it was all true. Everything he'd dreamed about the night before: the sunshine, the grass, his friend Bail, his wife Elyana—they really were all gone, eradicated in a burst of green light and an explosion of stars and dust. With a weary sigh, and a twinge in his bones to remind him he wasn't getting any younger, he got up and headed to the 'fresher. Whether it was true or not didn't really matter. Life went on. What choice did he have but to live it?

Carlist Rieekan, general for the Rebel Alliance and gifted military tactician, wouldn't have chosen the planet Hoth as the place for the Alliance's base. The harsh conditions made it difficult to keep both machinery and manpower functioning at optimum levels, which, in turn, made it a difficult location to defend. But the Empire didn't know they were there, and that was paramount. Carlist Rieekan, the man, wouldn't have chosen it either—it was as cold as the ninth of the Corellian hells! But the Empire didn't know they were there, and he couldn't complain about that. Walking down the newly carved corridor, he decided he needed one more cup of kaf before he went on duty. He opted to detour toward the commissary before he headed to the Command Center.

The base mess was filled with personnel at this time of day. The day crews were just gearing up, hoping to stoke their internal fires with the gods-awful rations the Alliance provided them, before they headed off to their assigned tasks; the night crews were taking the time to wind down with the same gods-awful food before they started their sleep cycle. Rieekan could have gone to join Mon Mothma and the other Alliance high command officials in their conference room; there was always a supply of kaf and foodstuffs available to them there. But he preferred the mess; he needed to see the people it was his job to command.

Juggling the hot cup in his gloved hands, the general was pleased to see his usual table was open. He suspected that someone had switched their seat in order to accommodate him—Rieekan would have preferred that people didn't feel that was necessary—but rank had both its privileges and its burdens. Occasionally, that amounted to the same thing.

He actually enjoyed mixing with those he commanded. Across the crowded space, Rogue Squadron had congregated around a large table. They were outfitted for a mission; their orange flightsuits a garish contrast to the dingy, mismatched tables and chairs. As usual, they were loud; jostling and joking amongst themselves, powered by raging hormones, almost oblivious to the dangers they faced. Rieekan might have joined the Rogues, in his youth. His youngest son might have joined them, he thought; the boy is an awful lot like his father. _Was an awful lot like me_, he corrected himself. Rieekan gave himself a mental shake. Regrets served no one. At least today's mission was simple, low-level reconnaissance. Barring anything unforeseen, all the young Rogues would be home again tonight.

At a smaller table, Luke Skywalker sat with Leia, their heads close together, the princess's hand resting on his orange-clad arm. They had become dear friends so quickly, Carlist couldn't help but marvel at it. Leia never had many close friends, even as a girl—her position alone made it difficult—and her personality hadn't helped. He smiled. What a frightful child she'd been: smart, willful, impatient and fiery! But he supposed he couldn't blame her. Many of the children she would have played with were frightened of her exalted role. The few who'd tried to maneuver themselves into her good graces, hoping for royal favor, had quickly learned that the little princess didn't suffer fools—or toadies—well. Only those who were willing to work past the prickly, defensive exterior discovered what a kind, loving creature the young Leia really was. Bail had often despaired of his daughter ever having a real friend, much less a lover or a spouse.

Bail. Rieekan felt his heart stutter. A man couldn't have had a better friend than Bail Organa, who'd never let his position as Viceroy of Alderaan stand in the way of their friendship. The man had been brave, and wise, and kind. He'd loved peace above all, and he'd been willing to fight Palpatine and the Empire in order to keep it. Carlist missed him desperately. The last time they'd spoken, it had been about family. Bail had chatted aimlessly about his wife and daughter, and congratulated the Rieekans on their upcoming grandchild—their first!

He shut his eyes and swallowed half his cup of kaf in one gulp, hoping the heat in his throat would burn some of the pain away. Gods, how he missed them all: his sons, his friends, his beautiful Elyana! But there was nothing to be done about it. They were gone, and missing them would do nothing to bring them back. The best he could do was honor their memories by fighting the Empire and caring for Bail's daughter. Not that he would ever tell Leia that he was watching over her; he wasn't a stupid man!

He glanced across the crowded tables at her; her head was thrown back, she and young Skywalker were laughing at something together. It warmed his heart to see her laugh; she needed to laugh more. To some, it might seem that the destruction of her homeworld had barely scorched her durasteel exterior, but only a fool would believe that. After all, the princess was a seasoned diplomat, and because of that, a consummate actor. Anyone who truly knew her could see the all-encompassing pain beneath the surface. Which is why this startling friendship pleased him so much_. _

_Poor Skywalker_, Rieekan thought. The young man kept hoping that Leia would fall in love with him the way he obviously had with her. But Carlist could tell it was only friendship from Leia's side. If and when Leia Organa gave her heart, it would be with as much fire and passion as she lived every other part of her life. She might love Skywalker, but not in the way the young man wanted.

Rieekan's chrono chimed discreetly; it was time for him to go to work. He'd spent more than enough time on introspection anyway. He was halfway to his feet, cup in hand, when he paused. No, he could spend another few minutes in observation, he thought. The door to the commissary had opened, admitting Han Solo and his first mate. The general sank back onto his seat, curious to see what came next.

The captain stood in the open doorway, his eyes scanning the room in that vigilant way the Corellian seemed unable to shake. His eyes stopped at the sight of Luke and Leia. That pause, along with an almost invisible thinning of his lips and narrowing of his eyes, were the only signs that he wasn't completely at his ease. Chewbacca pushed his friend forward with a good-natured comment about letting all the warm air out. Han Solo plastered a smirking smile on his face and swaggered in. Captain Solo was every bit as good an actor as Princess Leia Organa, Rieekan thought.

"Hey, kid!" Han said to Luke. "Your Worship." He inclined his head toward the princess in mocking respect, then reached around to grab an empty chair from a nearby table. It screeched loudly as he dragged it next to Leia. The Wookiee eschewed the chairs, which were too small for his large frame. Instead, he leaned against the wall, long arms folded across his furry chest.

Leia straightened herself in her chair, and pulled her hand away from Skywalker's arm. The general noted this with a faint smile.

"Where're you off to today?" Han addressed Luke, pointedly ignoring the princess.

"Just a quick scan of the other planets in the system," Luke answered. "Nothing exciting." He seemed disappointed.

"Listen, junior, every mission without getting shot at is a good mission." The smirk was gone, replaced with a serious intensity Rieekan understood completely. So many of his pilots were so young… It was as if they believed they were impervious to harm.

"And you, your highness?" Han turned his attention to Leia. "Any universe shattering meetings to attend?"

"I'm sorry if our desire to plan interferes with your free spirit, Captain. But then, thinking before acting isn't one of your stronger skills, is it?" Han scowled at the princess. Behind them, Chewie hooted out a chuckle.

The badinage went on, as Carlist watched, unobserved. He liked Solo, for reasons he wasn't completely sure of. Certainly the man was a good fighter, and loyal to a fault. His façade of greedy self-interest was just that, a façade. But so many of them were hiding their real selves behind something they weren't. Rieekan supposed that, too, was in the nature of a soldier.

His chrono chimed again, seemingly insistent. With a sigh, he picked up his empty cup and aimed it at the recycler with a quick toss. Got it in, first shot!

As he walked toward the exit, he paused at the table where Leia and Han were continuing to argue over whatever it was they were arguing about. Rieekan supposed it didn't matter. It was all about the dance, after all.

"Good morning, Princess," The general smiled at the young woman. "Solo, Skywalker." He nodded to both men, waving Luke back down when he started to stand. The Corellian straightened in his seat, but made no move to rise. Rieekan hadn't expected him to.

"Princess," he continued, "don't forget we need to go over those requisitions this morning."

"I'll be there by oh-eight-thirty," Leia responded quickly. Solo shot her a mocking smile.

Leia's cheeks bloomed with color; Solo's eyes sparked. Oh, there was fire between those two, lots of fire! He wondered how long it would take before either of them admitted it. Rieekan wondered, not for the first time, if he should do something to move them forward. Elyana had always warned him about interfering—reminding him he was terrible at it. But, after all, this was war; nothing was certain except that bad things were bound to happen. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that he hadn't waited so long to make his own moves with Elyana. If they could have had even a few more months together…

With a sigh, he excused himself, offering Chewbacca a quick nod as he passed. Much to his surprise, the Wookiee responded with a smile and a conspiratorial wink. Rieekan smiled in return. It seemed as if he had at least one ally in Campaign Leia and Han!


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's mea culpa: I realized that when I posted the Prologue to this story, I forgot to thank my beta's: jublke and StatsGrandma57. Let me rectify that now. They preform the daunting task of helping me make these stories readable-I couldn't do it without them. Thanks, too, to the folks who have read, reviewed and followed this story._

**Supply Run**

_Chapter One  
_

"I'm perfectly capable of retrieving a few supplies all on my own, your Holiness," Han snapped, looking down into Leia's stony face. At the moment her eyes had the same approximate hardness as duracrete.

"General Rieekan says this particular cargo will require some delicate negotiating."

"I know how to negotiate." His hazel eyes matched her brown ones, hardness for hardness. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I could get a better price than you could on almost anything." Han taunted the princess with a complacent smile. "I'm a smuggler," he reminded her. "It's what I do."

Leia glanced down at Han's blaster hand, which still sported a faint red welt from the burn he'd received during the last supply run they'd made together. She realized, with a twinge of distress, that if the shot had gone a few centimeters over, the Rodian thug would have blown Han's hand off, instead of just singeing it. When she raised her eyes, however, her face was bland.

"This time I think he'd prefer a little more finesse, and a little less firefight," she said derisively.

"Listen, sweetheart!" Han sputtered, wagging his finger under her nose. "If I hadn't been there, you never would have gotten your load of spare energy packs, and you wouldn't have gotten off that rock in one piece!" He spun on his heel and walked several quick paces down the corridor, before turning and walking thoughtfully back. "Unless…is this your way of getting some time alone with me, your Worship? All you have to do is ask." The lopsided grin was provoking.

Leia felt an unwelcome, though not entirely unpleasant, heat begin somewhere in her middle. It was quickly quashed. She would not give this conceited, ill-mannered scoundrel the satisfaction of a response! Certainly not the response he was looking for, at any rate.

"Captain," she said icily, "if you're not willing to take me to Ord Mantell, I'm sure I can find another, equally qualified pilot." Leia tightened her arms over her uncooperatively fluttering stomach and looked Han straight in the eye.

"You're not going to find an equally qualified pilot," Han informed her, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm the best."

Leia said nothing, merely raised her eyebrows questioningly.

The silence between them expanded, seeming to fill the icy corridor.

Leia propped her hands on her hips; her foot tapped impatiently.

"Fine!" Han snarled. "I'll take you to Ord Mantell. But only because I'm getting paid."

It was a feeble excuse, and they both knew it.

"Let me know when you're ready!" he shouted to her as he turned and headed down the corridor. "I need to talk to Rieekan before we go!"

Leia watched him leave. Even if he as a scoundrel, there was no reason she couldn't enjoy his rear view.

####

**The heels of Han's boots slipped on the icy floor of the tunnel leading to Echo base's command module, **but his spacer's reflexes kept him steady. Somebody needed to put down something with traction on it, he thought. An epidemic of slipping and falling would benefit no one but the Rogues, who would get weeks of jokes out of each pratfall. He skidded around one more corner and headed into the Command Center. His eyes scanned the busy room.

She wasn't there. Han released the breath he'd been holding. He'd never met an individual, male, female, or otherwise, who had ever caused him to feel this out of control. Hells! It had been nearly three years, and there were still days when he happily would have killed Princess Leia-_kriffing_-Organa. Of course, there were just as many days when he would have happily done other, much more pleasant things to—or rather with—her. And then there were the days when the tension, sexual or otherwise, wasn't enough. Those were the days when he looked at her, and she looked back, and there was something both gentle and electrifying between them. Those days were the ones that made him doubt his very sanity. They were the reason he needed to talk to Rieekan now.

The General wasn't in the Command Center either. A quick question and answer had him back in the chilly access corridor, heading for Rieekan's makeshift office. Han hoped the man was alone. He needed to talk about the supply run to Ord Mantell.

His hand hesitated for a heartbeat before he pressed the attention-signal and waited for a response. The door slid open with a cranky screech. Apparently the mechanism hated Hoth every bit as much as Han did.

"Solo." The general nodded and waved a casual hand, indicating the cramped room's single unoccupied chair. Another chair was piled high with flimsies and datapads. "If anyone had told me there were so many things that needed to be signed before we could actually fight this war, I would have turned down the commission in a nanosecond." There was tired humor in Rieekan's gravelly voice.

The door moaned shut.

"I've been expecting you," he continued, watching the Corellian. "I assume you've talked with the princess."

Han moved into the room, but instead of sitting, he grasped the back of the chair, his knuckles white.

"General," Han leaned forward. "Going to Ord Mantell isn't a good idea. It's a bad place. Isn't there anywhere else where you can get whatever it is you need?"

"I wouldn't pick the place for a vacation," Rieekan agreed. "But it has to be Ord Mantell."

"Why?" Han spat out. "What's there that we can't get someplace else?" Someplace that wasn't crawling with Black Sun operatives looking to make a quick score, and bounty hunters looking for Han Solo.

"Money," Rieekan said.

"Money?"

"A lot of money. Money invested and secured by the Royal House of Alderaan." The general looked up at Solo. "Bail had a number of hidden caches; he thought that would be safest." Pain marred his features for a heartbeat. "I don't think he ever guessed how right he'd be."

"Kriff!" Han dropped heavily into the chair. "And it has to be Leia?" he asked.

"She's all that's left of the Royal House of Alderaan," Rieekan pointed out. "There are certain passwords and other sureties which only Leia can provide."

"Kriff!" Han repeated. He scrubbed his hand across his face. "Leia said it was a supply run. Does she know she's going to collect what's left of the Alderaan treasury?" Han knew that the princess would do anything for the Rebellion. He also knew that she still suffered over the destruction of her world. He could see it in her face when she thought no one was looking; he could hear it in certain things she said—both sad and bitter. Having to play the part of the Princess of Alderaan, one more time—gods, but that would hurt her!

"She knows." Rieekan's face was solemn.

Of course she knew! She would go, and do her duty, and suffer for it. Leia was by far the most stubborn, perverse female he'd ever met!

"Well, okay," Han said. Another trip with a hidden agenda, he thought wearily. "Let me get the _Falcon_ prepped—talk to Chewie." He started to rise. "Thanks for the information, general."

"Solo, wait a minute, there's something else I'd like to discuss with you."

"General?" Han raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"It's a personal matter."

####

"**I didn't do it!" **

Han was out of his seat and pacing the small office like a speeder set on full throttle. Rieekan drained the remnants of a cup of kaf that had grown cold on his desk, which hid the beginnings of a smile from Han's view. When he put the cup down, the distasteful grimace on his face was absolutely authentic.

"Sit down, Solo," he suggested firmly.

"Is that an order?" Han bristled.

"It's an offer." The general set the empty mug aside and pulled a small, opaque bottle from underneath his workstation. "So's this. Corellian brandy?" he asked, holding the bottle up for Han to see.

Han had been on the receiving end of many dressing-downs in his life. If this were to be one, the general sure had an odd way of starting it. Warily, he nodded.

"There's another mug around here someplace," Rieekan waved in the direction of a packing crate.

Han turned to search, shoving aside assorted pieces of bureaucratic detritus until he located the mug. He tipped out two styluses and swiped at the inside with his hand, removing most of the dust. With a wry smile he offered it to the other man, who answered the smile with one of his own and liberally filled the two mugs.

Returning to his seat, Han realized that in another time, or in another galaxy, he and Carlist Rieekan might have been colleagues—maybe even friends—assuming of course, that Han had managed to not get thrown out of the Imperial navy. That also presupposed that there was no Emperor Palpatine. In that galaxy there would be no edicts to enslave sentient races, or Moffs who blew up entire worlds on a whim, or Dark Lords of the Sith who tortured young Alderaanian princesses.

"General?" Han began again. His face reflected only cautiously neutral curiosity.

"You've been with us, what, almost three years?" Rieekan began.

"About that." Han took a sip of the brandy, swirled it over his tongue, swallowed. It was good stuff. All this for another recruitment speech? That didn't make any sense; he'd turned the Alliance down dozens of times.

"Do you ever ask yourself why you've stayed so long?" The general pulled from his own mug and swallowed appreciatively.

Han had chosen to ignore that particular question daily for almost three years. "I'm just here until I can pay—"

Rieekan held up a hand and shook his head. "I've heard that answer as many times as I've asked the question. What answer do you hear when you ask yourself?"

"Jabba'd never think to look for me here; it's a great place to hide." Han smiled half-heartedly, he knew he wasn't fooling the older man. But if Rieekan was trying to get him to say he'd signed on for the cause, he wasn't going to get it. "You pay fair for services rendered," he continued, but the general just looked at him. "I have friends here," he finished, instantly regretting that he'd admitted to the fact that he had any ties. Han took another swallow of the brandy. He figured maybe he ought to pace himself with it; good booze was hard to come by on this ice cube.

"Friends," Rieekan repeated, drinking from his mug. "Like Skywalker, Antilles…"

"Yeah, friends. I do have a few of 'em." Han hated how defensive he sounded. What was it about these Alderaanians that brought out the worst in him, he wondered?

"I never doubted that you did." The general smiled in an avuncular fashion. "What about Leia?"

Brandy sloshed in his mug as Han choked. "Her Worship, uh, the princess?" he stumbled. "What about her?" _Smooth, Solo,_ he thought.

Rieekan set his mug down with a snap. "I did say this was personal." The general stood and paced a little before settling a hip on the edge of his workstation. "I've known Leia since she was a child. It was never easy for her to have friends. Her position, her precociousness," he smiled fondly. "Even as a child she was…fiery. She didn't have many friends, and those she had are mostly gone now."

There was that pain again. Han only nodded.

"As a friend of her father's, I try to look out for Leia. I hope she has friends, people she can count on; beyond the ones she's responsible for. But you and young Skywalker—she's different with you.

"Yeah, Luke is a great kid," Han said automatically. He saw where the conversation was going. An old family friend looking out for Leia. That was good, since she hardly ever looked out for herself. And Luke _was_ great, hero of the Rebellion, Jedi knight in training. It was just… _Give it up, Solo! _Han chastised himself. If Leia thought of him at all, it was as an acquaintance, nothing more.

"What about you? When are you going to make your move, Solo?"

Han swallowed his half-mug of excellent Corellian brandy in one fiery gulp, using the coughing fit that followed to hide his complete, dumbfounded astonishment. If the general had spontaneously combusted, Han would have been less shocked. When he was able to breathe again, he looked at Rieekan through watery eyes. The _kriffing_ man was grinning.

"General," he gasped, "I don't—"

"Yes, you do," Rieekan interrupted mercilessly. "You're not a kid like Skywalker, neither am I; we're both grown men. I can see you're attracted to her; what are you waiting for?"

Every day Han asked himself what he was doing here, why was he still helping the Rebel Alliance? Every day he came up with a different answer. He was keeping an eye on Luke; he was hiding from Jabba; he was making some extra money. Now there was another possibility—that he was in love with Leia Organa. And that was the one answer he never wanted to hear from himself. _Thanks very much, Rieekan!_

Han stood and placed his empty mug back on the packing crate. "General, no disrespect, but that's none of your business."

Rieekan rose as well. "You're probably right," he conceded. "Nevertheless, I'm still glad we had this talk." The general paused, measured his words. "And if you want my opinion, which you probably don't, I think you might be surprised at the result if you do make your move." He offered his hand to Solo.

Han looked at it for several long seconds; then he grasped it and shook it. What else could he do? The man had been nothing if not honest.

"Can you be ready for the Ord Mantell run by 08:30 tomorrow?" the general asked him, as if the other part of the conversation had never occurred.

"Chewie and I need to go over a few things, but it shouldn't be a problem." Han could pretend as well as the general.

"I'll let the Princess know."

"You do that," Han replied ungraciously. He turned to leave, completely missing the smile on Rieekan's face.

In Han's present frame of mind, that could only be a good thing. His little talk with the general hadn't exactly gone as planned. He was going to Ord Mantell, where he didn't want to go; he was taking Leia with him, which he didn't want to do; and he was facing a very unpleasant truth, that he didn't want to think about.

_Kriffing_ terrific.


	3. Chapter 3

_First, let me offer my tradtional thank you' s to my betas, jublke and StatsGrandma57-you guys are great. And thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed and followed my little tale, so far!_

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Two_

**The massive shield doors slid back, letting in a small avalanche of snow and ice. **Dazzling white light, reflecting off the frozen earth outside, silhouetted the X-wings parked just inside the doors with ethereal halos. It was daybreak at Echo Base.

Han pulled his parka tighter around his body and blew on his hands—gods but he hated this forsaken corner of the galaxy. He'd always thought he knew what cold was, up until the day he ended up berthed on Hoth. He glanced over at Chewbacca, who was wrestling a spare ammunition battery into the compartment where the belly laser was hidden. The Wookiee shivered, then bared his teeth as he snarled his displeasure with the day, the temperature, and the upcoming mission.

"Hey, pal," he answered, sympathizing with his friend. "I didn't choose Ord Mantell." Han snarled a little himself. "Matter of fact, I did my best to talk 'em out of it. You can see where that got me."

The Wookiee merely rumbled on with his list of complaints.

"I know there are bounty hunters there; there are bounty hunters everywhere these days. I can't just stay sitting on this ice ball forever," Han replied reasonably. His eyes narrowed. "Look, you can skip this trip if you want to; I got this."

Who was he kidding anyway? The bounty hunters were getting harder and harder to ignore. Han resisted the urge to rub at the healing welt on his hand. That Rodian had probably been a cousin of Greedo's, and Han had to concede that he'd probably been justified at taking a shot him. The problem was, if some dumb relation of Greedo's could find him—and on a milk run, no less—the other half-dozen, or dozen, bounty hunters who were looking for him could find him, too. Those were the bounty hunters who worried him; they might actually get him, or Chewie, or the kid. Or Leia.

Obviously he wasn't fooling Chewie. Han leapt back to avoid flying fur as the Wookiee gesticulated wildly, making his feelings on the subject of staying behind evident with a series of ever more angry barks and yowls.

"Fine, fine!" Han attempted to pacify his friend. "I know you have a life-debt." He grinned crookedly. "But you don't have to call me stupid." He reached up to give Chewie a quick pat on the shoulder. "Besides," he said, his grin losing wattage, "I'm glad you'll be there to watch my back."

Chewbacca moaned mournfully in agreement, then turned back to the belly gun. With a sigh, Han reached in to help with the installation. He had a bad feeling that they were going to need the gun in the near future.

"Han? Hey! Chewie?"

When he got no answer, Luke pounded on the Falcon's armor plating with a stray wrench from a nearby packing crate in order to get his friends' attention.

With a startled grunt, Solo pulled his head out of the weapons bay. Chewie's welcoming bellow came from the ship's stern where he was now busy with adjustments. The Wookiee peered around a landing strut, his hands full of wiring.

"Hey, kid!" Han set aside the electro-driver he held and rubbed his hands together, vainly trying to warm them. "You up and ready for another recon run?" His brow lifted curiously. "Kinda early, isn't it?" Han inclined his head toward the younger man. "And you're not dressed for it." The younger man wasn't wearing his flightsuit; in fact, he wasn't wearing a uniform at all. Instead he was dressed in simple pants and tunic, with a heavy jacket over them in defense against the ambient temperature in the hangar.

"General Rieekan commed me last night; he said he wanted me to go with you and Leia to Ord Mantell." Luke looked curiously at his friend. "Didn't he tell you I was coming?"

"No, he didn't," was the brusque reply. Han was getting just a little tired of what Rieekan wasn't telling him—and what he was telling him. He wondered what the general was pulling. Did he think that a little competition from the kid was going to have any effect on him and his relationship with her Highness? Of course it wouldn't. Or maybe he wanted Leia to have all her choices right there in front of her? Head to head with Luke Skywalker—terrific! The kid was as pure as the snow outside the shield doors, and Han Solo…well Han knew that he wasn't. So whose side was General Rieekan actually on, anyway?

Not that any of that mattered right now. All that mattered was getting in and out of Ord Mantell without getting blasted. Sometimes life was just that simple, Han decided.

"Chewie, you got that wiring worked out?" he called out to his co-pilot.

The Wookiee howled in the affirmative.

"Okay, I'm going up to the cockpit to give the controls a try. Since I can't actually shoot anything in here," Han explained, indicating the hangar with a quick wave of his hand, "you need to stay out there and make sure it works right." Not that he couldn't imagine a few prospective targets right here, Han thought testily. _A general, a princess…_

Chewbacca yowled his understanding.

"C'mon inside, kid," Han invited the patiently waiting Luke as he started up the boarding ramp, "I wanna talk to you about this mission before her Highness-ness joins us." He moved through his ship with quick, long strides; the younger man trotted to keep up.

"Han!" Luke panted a little, "I don't know why you can't be nicer—"

"I don't want to hear it, Junior," Han interrupted as he dropped into the pilot's seat. His hands moved deftly over the weapons controls. The gun dropped down below the ship and swiveled menacingly. Han smiled as several crewmen in the hangar dove for cover.

"That seems right…" he muttered. Han pounded on the cockpit canopy and motioned at Chewie, standing below. The Wookiee nodded to indicate a successful trial, his answering bark just audible through the open hatch. Han's fingers flicked another sequence of switches and the belly gun retracted.

"Well, that works," he commented to no one in particular. Han leaned back in the seat and turned to Luke, who was sitting in the co-pilots place.

"What did Rieekan tell you about this supply run?" Han asked.

"That we're picking up some back-up generators for the shields."

"Did he tell you about the money?"

Luke nodded, observing the dark look in his friend's eyes.

"I got a bad feeling about this whole thing," Han said flatly.

Luke only nodded again, his open, farmboy face curious.

"The generators we can get anywhere, and I told 'em so," the older man continued. "It's the money that's the problem." His face was hard.

"But they need the money!" Luke objected. "Without it—"

"I know they need it!" Han leapt up to prowl the cockpit, randomly flipping switches and checking gauges. "Listen, Junior," he snapped, "I know all about the economics of war. It's just…" The Corellian paused, his eyes intense. "Her Worship shouldn't be going. The Imps are all over the place. And if we're not worrying about them, there's Black Sun to keep us occupied."

"But you know why Leia has to go," Luke pointed out.

"Yeah, I know." Han threw himself back down into the pilot's seat. He looked outside the cockpit canopy at the activity in the hangar. "That much money, though. It paints a big red target on her back." His scowl deepened. "As if she didn't have one already."

Luke's innocent look slowly melted away as he contemplated the black expression on his friend's face. The crease between Luke's furrowed brows made him look much older than his actual years. The stare he gave Han was intense, probing.

"So, we'll be careful," the young man said finally. "We know who to look out for. It's not like we've never done anything like this before."

"Yeah, but this time…" Han began.

Both men turned when Chewbacca interrupted with a whuffled warning from the cockpit hatch; the princess was on her way.

Han's eyes tracked toward the ship's chronometer. It was 08:23, her Worshipfulness was seven minutes early!

"Okay, Chewie, let's get her zipped," he directed his first mate. "It's time to get this party started."

"Han? Wait!" Luke stood. "What else did you want to say?"

"Nothing, kid." Han looked out the viewport at Leia's slim form as she talked with General Rieekan. He could tell Luke about the bounty hunters, but what was the point. It was too late to change anything, anyway.

"You're right, we just need to be careful," Han said. He cocked a grin in Luke's direction and heaved a mighty sigh. "Let's go out and get our last minute instructions."

####

**The white sphere of the planet Hoth hung innocently in the rear viewport of the **_**Falcon's**_** cockpit**, but getting clear of the snowy world had been a challenge to Han and Chewbacca's piloting skills. The asteroid field that helped shield the planetary system from unwelcome traffic also spawned an inordinate number of meteorites; tiny bits of space debris that played havoc with a ship's sensors, particle shields, and occasionally its hull. Chewie busily cataloged the new damage to the ship while Han calculated the coordinates for the jump to Ord Mantell.

"Sith!" Han snarled in response to a particularly plaintive grumble from his co-pilot. "We just fixed that sensor array!" He toggled a few switches on the control board and tapped at a gauge, scowling. "Chewie, go aft and check the drive coolant," he ordered. "I'm getting a funny reading here." He rapped the gauge again with two knuckles. "I'd hate to go hyperspace and overheat the system." That was an understatement. Without proper coolant pressure, they'd likely burn out the whole drive.

Chewie shuffled toward the back of the ship, passing Leia in the hatchway. He nodded politely as the princess slipped past him.

"Is there a problem?" Leia asked him, seating herself in co-pilot's chair.

Han bit back the sharp remark on the tip of his tongue. It had become pure reflex to spar with her, he realized, kind of like breathing. The princess actually hadn't said anything argumentative—this time. "I don't think so," he said. "I'm getting a funny reading, but I think it's because the sensors are haywire." He rolled his eyes skyward. "Those meteorites don't show up in the array until it's too late," he explained.

Leia nodded in agreement. "Traffic control has been talking to General Rieekan about it. Our ships have trouble getting out, and we can't see ships coming in. Hopefully the new field generators will help."

"If we can get to the kriffing things," Han said sourly. He turned to the navicomputer. The coordinates were set.

He keyed on the comm. "Chewie?"

Instead of the Wookiee's response over the comm, Luke stuck his head into the cockpit.

"Chewie says he needs another five minutes," he stated. "He's checking for leaks in the line." Luke retreated, explaining that it went faster with two of them working on it.

"If we can't get out of here," Leia began tentatively, concern evident on her face.

"We'll get out," Han barked. "But Ord Mantell is a long jump; we can't risk a bad drive." He looked hopefully at the princess. "But if we could go someplace closer," he suggested.

"That's not an option." Her eyes shifted uneasily away from his.

Han's temper flared. "Why all the secrecy about this, your Worship?" he demanded. "Are you afraid you can't trust me with the Alliance's money?"

"Don't be ridiculous! Of course I, uh…of course the Alliance trusts you!"

Han found himself ridiculously pleased by the princess's slip of the tongue. "Ord Mantell is a bad place, these days," he said stubbornly. "I'm afraid it's not like it was when your father set up this arrangement."

Leia swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know. But this is the way it has to be. We need the credits, and I'm the only one who can get them." Her chin rose as she looked defiantly back at him. "You needn't worry; I can take care of myself."

_Sure you can_, he thought bleakly. He was just damned tired of having to watch her do so. Han nodded in surrender. At least he'd tried to talk her out of it.

Chewie walked in, followed by Luke, and rumbled his opinion on the coolant line.

"So, there aren't any leaks in the line. Good." Han sounded relieved. "I've got the coordinates set."

Leia shifted to the engineer's seat behind Han and the Wookiee took his customary seat. He growled an additional explanation.

Frustration replaced relief. "But you think there might be a hole in the outer hull?" Han asked.

Chewie shrugged and groaned.

"Terrific. Well at least it's just a little hole," Han commented acidly.

"A hole?" Luke exclaimed, from his seat behind the Wookiee.

"Don't worry, kid, the outer hull self-seals the small dings."

"The way you fly," Leia observed caustically, "that can only be a good thing."

"Nice," Han rejoined. He tapped the navicomputer, sending the jump info to the control board. "Strap in, everyone," he advised. "Next stop, Ord Mantell." The stars elongated to streaks as the _Millennium_ _Falcon_ shifted to lightspeed. Han hoped no one noticed he'd been holding his breath.


	4. Chapter 4

_A quick note about numbering. I know that the site says this is chapter 4, and that I say it's chapter 3. It is chapter 3, and it is chapter 4. What the site called chapter 1, I called the Prologue. That explains everything, right? ;) _

_Thanks again to my betas-jublke and StatsGrandma57-your help is invaluable. Thanks, too, to everyone who is reading and following this story!  
_

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Three_

Though Han would never say it, traveling through hyperspace could be boring. Chewie could always find some way to spend the time: reading, watching a holovid, or tinkering with something in the Falcon; the co-pilot always had an improvement or two in mind. But Han was more restless; he much preferred hands-on piloting to the errant nothingness of lightspeed. This trip, with all of the added risks involved—and the frightening new thoughts planted in his brain by a meddlesome Alderaanian general—didn't help his mood any. He prowled the ship like a sand panther, shifting from task to task, but never settling at one for very long.

Luke, intent on his lightsaber practice, didn't appear to notice. The remote shot bolt after bolt at the young man, who managed to parry most of them. The kid was getting better at it, Han realized. Who'd have ever thought it? There might be hope for the erstwhile Jedi yet!

Han flicked a few switches on the engineering console, pleased to see the hyperdrive systems were all reading normal.

"Chewie, I'm going up front."

The Wookiee looked up and growled inquiringly.

"No, the system's good," Han answered. "I'm just gonna check a few subroutines. You know, while we have the time."

Chewie chuckled understandingly at Han's retreating form. Some things never change, he thought.

And some things did change. His furry eyebrows rose as he watched Leia follow Han down the access corridor.

####

"**Is everything okay?" Leia asked the back of Han's head.**

His hands didn't falter as he worked the controls of the particle sensor array, but Leia saw his eyebrows raise as she looked at his reflection on the forward canopy.

"The ship's fine," Han responded, his voice carefully neutral. He turned to look at her when she sat in Chewie's oversized seat. "No reason it shouldn't be."

"Except for the hole in the hull," she pointed out. She smiled tartly when he started to object. "I know, it's just a small hole."

"It's nothing to worry about." His hands were still on the control panel. He turned to look back at the distorted mosaic of hyperspace. "How come you're not back there watching Luke do his Jedi practice?"

Leia's slim shoulders twitched up in a shrug. "He gets a little intense sometimes," she explained. "It's kind of hard to take." Then Leia smiled. "And it gets warm back there with all the bolts flying around, even if they are only stunners."

Han barked a surprised laugh. "You've got a point! I don't know how Chewie can stand staying back there with him."

"I suspect Chewie's learned to put up with quite a lot over the years, traveling with you," Leia countered, a sweet smile on her face. Her eyes, however, glittered with mischief.

"Nice, your Worship," Han said, without rancor. He took a deep breath. "Are you okay with this trip?" he asked, his eyes searching her face. Her spine stiffened, but her eyes went dark and far away.

"I have to be, don't I?" she answered defiantly.

Han arched a brow in her direction, sensing her discomfort with the mission. "Come on, Leia, I've seen you." He was one of the few people who'd witnessed just how much she still grieved for her home and family.

"I have to be," she repeated, but she sank a little deeper into the seat. "That doesn't make it any easier, though," she admitted.

He nodded in understanding. "Whose idea was this little adventure, anyway?" he asked. His restless hands moved over the Falcon's control yoke, even though there was nothing for him to control. "Dodonna? Or Mon Mothma? It sounds like her," he sniped.

"Actually, it was my idea." Leia gazed steadily at him. "We have to get that money before someone else does."

"Your idea? Are you crazy?" Han leapt from his seat, stalked the three steps to the cockpit hatch, then turned to face the princess. "You know the place is crawling with Black Sun don't you? I'm sure they'll be happy to take any credits you can get your hands on! And maybe they'll turn you in to the nearest Imperial garrison, too—if the stormtroopers don't find you themselves, first!"

By the time he was finished, Han was shouting.

"Han!" Leia hollered right back. She stood to face him. "Han," she said again, this time in a more normal voice. "I know all that. One of the intelligence agents in the capital has heard rumors that Black Sun has been trying to get access to the account. That's why we have to get it ourselves, as soon as possible."

"Kriffing terrific," Han remarked acidly.

"I know it's not ideal," the princess continued, "that's why I asked General Rieekan to relieve Luke of his duties with Rogue Squadron. So he could come with us."

"_You_ asked for the kid to come with us?" Han bellowed, with a surprising amount of heat.

"Do you have a problem with that?" The princess's heat matched his. She dropped back into the seat with an angry huff, and turned her face to look out the canopy. "I didn't want you taking the risks all alone."

"Yeah, I do have a problem with it! You don't have to worry about me, sweetheart, I've been taking care of myself for years!" Han paused for breath, holding up a hand before Leia could interrupt. "It's you and Luke I'm thinking of. I've got enough trouble looking out for you, now I gotta look out for Luke, too!"

"Captain, I don't need anyone to look out for me, either. I'm perfectly able to take care of myself." Leia's tone rocketed from fire to ice. "And Luke certainly has shown he's able to do the same."

"Listen, sister," Han's voice was low and menacing, "I've pulled the kid's butt, and yours, outta the line of fire more times than I can count." Bracing one hand on the console, the other on the back of the co-pilot's seat, Han leaned down until his face was mere inches from Leia's, forcing her to look at him. "The last thing I need is someone deciding what I need and what I don't need—because I don't need anything from anybody!" His noisy exhalation lifted the fine hairs around Leia's face.

"Yes, you've made that perfectly clear, any number of times." Leia slipped neatly out from underneath Han's extended arms. "But, unless you're planning to shove Luke out an airlock, he's coming with us now." Head held high, she marched stiffly to the hatch. "I'm going to go and watch Luke practice, after all. The air in here is a little too heated for me." The hatch slid open to reveal Chewbacca's tall figure, his face reflecting curiosity and the tiniest bit of trepidation.

"Sorry, Chewie," she said as she pushed past him, "I need some air."

The Wookiee watched her stalk down the access corridor before he entered the cockpit.

Han stood in the middle of the small space, staring out the hatchway. Chewie warbled a question.

"No, nothing's wrong," Han said, watching the retreating princess. "Why do you think something's wrong?"

Chewbacca looked at his friend's face for a long time. Finally he shrugged and moved to his seat.

"Don't look at me that way!" Han continued. He flung his hands in the air. "There are too many people on my ship. I'm going to my quarters."

Contemplatively, the Wookiee cocked his head to one side as he watched the Corellian deliberately swagger away.

####

"**Is everything okay? I thought I heard shouting."**

Luke looked across the holotable as Leia seated herself. His face was flushed and his undershirt was damp with sweat. As far as she could tell, though, he didn't have any burn marks on him from his latest practice session. He was getting better with his lightsaber, Leia thought, at least when he was fighting against a remote.

"Of course you heard shouting, we're dealing with Han Solo." Leia's eyebrows drew together.

Luke opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again when he looked at Leia's angry countenance. That was a wise choice. It would have just been his standard_ I don't know why you two don't get along better speech_, and Leia didn't want to hear it right now. She didn't know why they didn't get along. Because they did, at least most of the time. She actually hadn't disliked Han since…since when? At least since he came back to help Luke with the Death Star; maybe even before then. It was just that it seemed as if the only way they could communicate was by provoking one another. There was something about the man that just made her react! She'd never known another being who could cause her to feel the way he did.

"Are you okay?" Luke asked, staring at her unsettled features.

"Yes," she reassured him. "I was just thinking."

"You know, I think Han's worried about this mission," Luke continued. "Ord Mantell is a pretty dangerous place."

"I know it is." Leia responded. "That's why I wanted you to come along, too."

Luke's small frame seemed to expand exponentially. "You asked for me to come? Because it's dangerous?" His proud grin lit the entire lounge area.

"I wanted to be sure that Han had enough back-up." The words came out of Leia's mouth before she had a chance to think about them. After, she wasn't sure who was more shocked at that statement, Luke or herself. "General Rieekan agreed with me," she continued quickly.

The grin dimmed as Luke processed this information. "So, you're worried about Han?" Leia saw that the concept seemed to surprise him.

"Yes, er, I'm worried about the mission." Leia looked at Luke's uncertain face, and found herself wondering if Han Solo's complete lack of diplomacy was rubbing off on her. "I think you're the best person to help with this," she added, hoping to boost his morale. "I can't think of a better one." She smiled at him, resting her hand lightly on his arm.

Luke seemed to accept the unspoken apology. "Well, I'm glad you asked for me," he responded. His smile returned, though it seemed a little more wary than before. He looked over at the chrono at the engineering console. "We've still got some time. How about a game of dejarik?"

Leia nodded, and Luke activated the board. The holo pieces took their places. It wasn't Leia's favorite pastime, but there didn't seem to be anything else to do. Besides, it would give her time to think. Suddenly, she realized, she had a lot to think about.

####

_**This is stupid, **_**he thought. **_**I'm hiding in my own ship!**_

Han lay on his bunk, glaring at the ceiling and wondering how he'd gotten to this point. Not only was it stupid, it was embarrassing!

What he'd said to Chewie was the truth, sort of. There _were_ too many people on his ship; if one stubborn Alderaanian princess could be considered too many. How dare she bring Luke along because she thought he needed help! He didn't need help. From anyone. The fact that he'd actually talked to Luke about the dangers they would face on Ord Mantell himself didn't figure into the equation at all.

_I didn't want you taking the risks all alone. _That statement threw everything out of balance. The fact that Leia actually seemed to be concerned over his well-being was a completely unexpected variable. Not that she needed to worry about him, of course. Still…was it possible that the ice princess was thawing, just a little? Han felt his face relax into a smile. That might not be so bad, he thought. He had to admit that he found the princess intriguing. There was more spirit in that little body than he'd seen in any other being. And she was pretty kriffing attractive, too.

Whoa! Han leapt up so fast he nearly banged his head on a nearby shelf. What had happened to no attachments and no commitments? And where had keeping things simple disappeared to? Was it possible that Carlist Rieekan had been right? Gods! And if he was, then what?

Standing stunned in the middle of his utilitarian quarters, Han was forced to admit it to himself—of course it was possible! From the day he'd met her, he'd been drawn to Princess Leia Organa. Her fearless spirit, her devotion to her cause—though he'd never admit that one to her—her cute little…

He sank back down onto the edge of his bunk with a sheepish grin; he probably wasn't the only one who was attracted to that last feature. But the rest of it? That was another story entirely. He'd known many women in his lifetime—he'd liked most of them a lot, he thought fondly—but he'd never felt about a single one of them the way he felt about Leia. Even Bria Tharen, whom he believed to be the love of his life, had never affected him this way.

Hells! Han ran his hand along the back of his neck. Now what did he do? Did he make his move, as Rieekan had suggested, or did he wait to see how her Worship behaved? Han had a suspicion—a _feeling, _he cringed—that Leia was experiencing the same emotions that he was.

A discreet chime and a blinking light interrupted the tangled knots of Han's thoughts. The monitor panel built into the wall indicated that they were finally reaching Ord Mantell. With a sigh of relief, Han left his cabin and headed toward the cockpit; at least now he had something to do.

"C'mon, Chewie," he called out as he walked past the main hold, "we're coming out of hyperspace."

The Wookiee rose to follow his captain with an affirmative grunt. Luke and Leia rose from the holotable to come along as well.

Han was acutely aware of their presence as he took his position at the _Falcon's_ controls. Even if he was unsure about his newly discovered feelings for the princess, he was certain of one thing—he needed to make sure he kept them all alive.

Han had a very bad feeling about this mission to Ord Mantell.


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you everyone for your patience; I hadn't realized it had been so long since I'd posted anything. Thank you, also, to everyone who is reading, following and reviewed this story thus far. Thanks again to my beta's for their suggestions and advice, and for correcting my grammar. Finally, just another reminder; I know the website says this is chapter 5, but it's really supposed to be chapter 4. I my never do another prologue again! :)_

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Four_

**The dusky brown and blue orb of Ord Mantell floated in front of them.** Through the transparisteel of the _Millennium_ _Falcon's_ cockpit, it looked innocent enough, although the ship's captain definitely had an unfavorable opinion of the planet's actual status.

Han reached out a hand to pull back on the throttles, slowing the forward momentum of the ship.

"I don't like this." His lips formed one thin, straight line.

Chewie awrrooed an observation.

"I know there aren't any Imperial ships in orbit; that's what's bothering me."

Luke craned his neck, as if that would help him see what ships were in traffic patterns around Ord Mantell, even though the _Falcon_ was still too far out for any vessel to be discernible with the naked eye.

"But that's a good thing, isn't it?" he asked, his brows drawn together in confusion.

"Yes, Luke, it's a good thing," Leia confirmed. She was looking at the long-distance sensor plot situated between the pilot's and co-pilot's stations. From this far out, all that was visible on the display were generic icons representing the registration planets of origin of the different vessels. Since none of them bore the spherical Imperial crest, it was safe to assume that all of the vessels were independent ships.

"They're here," Han said with glum certainty.

Chewbacca woofed a sharp question.

"Because there's an Imperial garrison here, that's why!"

"Well, since there aren't any in evidence, I think it makes sense to just go ahead and land," Leia stated.

"Whatever you say, your Worshipfulness," Han said, his irritation evident. He pressed the throttles forward and maneuvered the ship toward the point where planetary traffic control would direct their descent.

"Do you know how long it will take before we make planetfall?" Leia asked after a few minutes of watching the approach.

"Depends on how long the queue is." The closer they drew to Ord Mantell, the more ships were becoming visible. Han mentally calculated the wait time. "I'd guess at least 40 standard minutes, maybe more," he answered. He turned his head to look at Leia. "Are you in a hurry?"

"No. There's something I need to do before I disembark," was all that Leia said.

Han cocked a mocking eyebrow at her. "Like what? Your hair?"

"Actually, yes." Without another word, Leia rose and left the cockpit, followed by Han's glare and Chewie's barking laugh.

####

The 43 standard minutes—Han had timed it on the console chronometer—that Leia had been 'doing her hair' had passed uneasily for the three males left to wait in the cockpit. Luke's attempts to chat with Han, about the other ships in the area or what Leia might be doing, were met with either grunted monosyllables or stony silence. Finally, he gave up the attempt altogether, and instead focused his attention between the traffic approaching Ord Mantell and hopeful glances at the closed cockpit hatchway.

All of Han's attention—except for the periodic time checks—was intent on the approach to the planet. His eyes moved incessantly between the sensor plot and the view out the forward canopy. The closer they drew to the planet, the easier it was for him to identify the other ships in the vicinity. As was reflected on the sensor screen, most of the ships were either freighters or transports. There were also a few private vehicles and pleasure craft. At no point could Han identify either an Imperial craft or a ship belonging to one of the bounty hunters he was familiar with. Still, the tingling at the back of his neck told him both perils were out there.

Chewbacca performed his co-pilot's duties with practiced ease, both monitoring signals from planetary control and keeping track of the traffic around them. Occasionally he would look to his left at Han, or back toward Luke, his face reflecting an interesting combination of amusement and exasperation. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes revealed his understanding of the sudden tension that had sprung up between his two human friends, while his expressive features seemed to say that the two males needed to sort out their rivalry for the princess—and quickly!

A signal bleated from the control console; the _Millennium_ _Falcon_ had—finally—made it to the front of the queue. As Han hit the toggle for the speaker he realized he had one more thing to worry about. As big as Ord Mantell's spaceport was, there was no telling which slot they'd assign to the Falcon. He hoped it was one of the berths close to the financial district. The less distance they had to travel meant less exposure to the myriad of threats facing them.

"Corellian freighter YT-1300," the speaker crackled, "you are clear to land at docking bay 355-gamma."

Han waved a hand at Chewie, whose long fingers were already calling up a map of the spaceport and the adjacent city. Docking bay 355-gamma wasn't the farthest berth from the financial quarter, but not by much. Han's eyebrows drew together in a troubled frown.

"Control," Han toggled the mike on. "Any chance we can get a bay in section—" His eyes quickly scanned the map "—alpha or beta?" Of course the best berths would be near the banks!

"Corellian freighter, only if you want to go back to the end of the line."

Han sighed gustily. It was tempting to do just that, except that would expose them to the possibility of being sighted by an Imperial Ship, or a bounty hunter.

"Han, you might as well just land." Han turned his head, he'd almost forgotten Luke was sitting behind him. "You know Leia is eager to get this done."

"If she ever finishes with her primping," Han muttered.

"Corellian freighter, do you want to land or not?" Planetary traffic control was getting testy.

"Fine!" Han said, though it wasn't fine at all, "Heading for 355-gamma."

"Corellian freighter, enjoy your stay."

"Yeah, right." Han changed course, heading toward the assigned berth. His eyes moved once more to the chronometer. 57 standard minutes! What was she doing…?

The cockpit hatch slid open.

"Well, it took you long enough, your—" The words froze on Han's lips, as he looked over his shoulder.

Leia stood in the hatchway. She had indeed 'done her hair.' It was now pinned up in an intricate coronet of braids and curls. She'd also changed out of her shipboard khakis and into the most amazing gown Han had ever seen her wear. Instead of virginal white, this gown had an overdress of heavy, ice-blue brocade, while the underskirt and sleeves were a soft cream color. Though Leia normally never wore cosmetics, now her eyes were lined with dark kohl, her lips tinted ruby red.

To Han, the tiny princess seemed suddenly taller, and infinitely regal. He could see her ruling a planet, hells, a whole galaxy! He was aware of other impressions too, a lot less obeisant and a whole lot more, er, manly. Han swallowed, trying to moisten his dry mouth and still the rapid beating of his heart.

"Han?" Leia asked, then more forcefully, "Han!"

Chewbacca added his own urgent roar. Turning forward, Han quickly yanked back on the control yoke, pulling them out of the steep descent he'd inadvertently sent the ship into and into a more reasonable approach.

The Falcon settled into docking bay 355-gamma without incident. Han remained still in his seat for several long moments, ignoring Chewie's scolding, waiting for his heart and breathing to calm to something resembling normal. _Gods, Solo, _he thought. Just, _gods!_

Finally he turned in his seat and looked at Leia. He plastered a tight smile on his face.

"We're here, your Highness," he said, without an ounce of his usual sarcasm.

####

Leia met the stares of her companions with an uncomfortable dignity. Her eyes traveled from Luke's goggling stare, to Chewbacca's amused appreciation, resting finally on Han Solo's face. She raised her chin a little higher under his scrutiny, and a quick upturn of her lips—just as quickly hidden—expressed her pleasure at his obvious approbation.

Chewie broke the stunned silence with a series of grunts and moans.

"I'm sorry, Chewie," Leia said to the Wookiee. "I didn't get what you said."

"He said you look nice," Han translated quickly—and not entirely accurately. What the Wookiee had actually said was _"That is the kind of genteel female any male would be proud to mate with!"_ Han shot his first mate a withering look, which Chewbacca smugly ignored.

"Thanks, Chewie." The princess lowered herself gracefully into the remaining empty seat with a rustle of heavy fabric. "Mon Mothma, General Rieekan, and I discussed the best way to approach this bank. It's an old and rather traditional institution—"

"Snooty," Han interrupted.

Another fleeting smile. "Snooty," Leia agreed. "We concluded that rather than appearing to represent the Alliance, I should represent Alderaan." The words hung heavily in the air for a heartbeat. "So we decided I needed to dress the part," the princess concluded.

"You look amazing," Luke said guilelessly.

"Thanks." She wiggled her feet, barely in evidence under the heavy garments. "I just wish these shoes didn't pinch so much." She smiled wryly.

"So, how are we supposed to get to this bank?" Han queried. "We're a long way from the financial district." He looked her over one more time. "And it's not like you're not going to stand out in a crowd in that get up."

"We'll rent a speeder," the princess replied tartly. She scowled at the pilot. "What is wrong with you? Everything is going according to plan."

"What's wrong? Everything's wrong!" Han ran his hand along the back of his neck, then dropped it into his lap. "We're on a planet with an Imp garrison; you're about as inconspicuous as the Queen of Naboo, there's a price on your head, and we're about to collect a shipload of credits—that's what!"

Leia merely raised an eyebrow in answer to his objections.

"I've got a very bad feeling about this," he stated.

"Luke, what do you think? Do you have a bad feeling?"

The younger man straightened in his seat, shutting his eyes in concentration. "I don't feel anything bad," he proclaimed.

Han snorted. "Him you'll listen to," he began.

Only to be interrupted by a bark from Chewbacca, who was pointing out the side viewport.

"Uh oh, we've got company," Luke observed rather sheepishly.

Leia's hands tightened into fists in her lap.

"Don't worry, your highness-ness," Han assured her. "They're here to rob us legally. They're spaceport personnel, here to collect the docking fees. Though I imagine they give a cut to Black Sun." He grunted as he rose from his seat. "C'mon Chewie, let's pay 'em off. The sooner we start this, the sooner we can lift off and go home."

Leia looked carefully at the smuggler, her eyes narrowed. He and Chewie were moving to the boarding ramp, paying no more attention to her or Luke. Obviously Han had no idea he'd just called the Rebel Alliance home.

####

Once the legitimate docking fees were paid—and the appropriate palms were greased—the small group moved through the docking rings and into the city itself. Leia kept up with the Corellian's long stride better than Luke did. Pride forbade that she should let her uncomfortable shoes hamper her in any way. Halting just to the side of the archway that proclaimed 'Welcome to Ord Mantell' in Basic, plus a dozen other languages, they paused to discuss the best way to proceed.

"I think we should all stick together," Luke said. "There's less risk that way."

Han actually agreed with him, but since it was Luke who'd suggested it, he found himself arguing the point.

"If we split up, we can get this whole trip zipped up that much faster," he pointed out. Han's stance was tense, his eyes constantly scanning the crowd, his hand near his blaster.

"But—" Luke began.

"I think Han is right," Leia interrupted. She could see the number of beings who were looking curiously at her. She was indeed conspicuous, she realized. That would only cause problems. "The sooner we get done the better."

Han smiled triumphantly at Luke. "C'mon, Princess, let's get a speeder and get going. Chewie, take Luke and get those generators. Load 'em up as soon as you can." He grasped Leia's arm with the hand not hovering near his blaster and began to steer her away.

"Wait a minute!" Luke objected loudly. Chewie yowled his own objections.

"What?" Han asked, looking askance between his two friends.

"How come you get to go with Leia?" Luke asked with boyish innocence. Chewie growled that he was supposed to watch Han's back, and how could he do that if he wasn't even with him?

"Listen," Han began, looking nervously around at all the beings swarming past them. "We're just going to a bank; how hard can that be? Chewie," he addressed his hirsute co-pilot. "You know all about getting freight at the best price, and about loading it. You gotta get those generators and get them back to the _Falcon_."

Chewbacca moaned in grudging agreement.

"What about me?" Luke interjected.

"You have to go with him," Han continued. "What if the contact doesn't speak Shyriiwook?" He carefully ignored the fact that Luke's Shyriiwook was schoolboy simple. "Besides," Han slanted his best innocent smile in Luke's direction. "You've got the Force." Which made absolutely no difference, but Luke preened anyway.

Leia rolled her eyes skyward. However, she too was growing uncomfortable with the crowds—and her feet hurt.

"Luke," she said, in a tone that brooked no objections. "You go with Chewie and get those generators. Han and I will get the credits. We'll meet back at the Falcon in…" she paused to consider, "…two standard hours. Is that enough time, Chewie?"

He warbled in the affirmative.

"I'm glad that's all decided," Han snarked. "Let's go, your Worship." He tugged at her arm.

"Let go of me," Leia snapped in reply.

Luke watched the two walk off before he turned to catch up with Chewbacca, who was already heading in the opposite direction.

"You know, Chewie, I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this."

Chewie lowed mournfully in agreement.


	6. Chapter 6

_A heartfelt thanks to everyone who's reading and following this story. I know it's taking me forever. Also, thanks to everyone who's reviewed it. Also, I must thank the world's most wonderful betas-jublke and StatsGrandma57._

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Five_

Luke trotted along behind Chewbacca, making a little skip every four or five steps in order to keep up with the Wookiee's much longer stride. He didn't know what had Chewie so worked up, but whatever it was, it was starting to affect him, too. Instead of enjoying the sights and sounds of a new world, something the Tatooine farm boy never tired of, Luke felt a nervous knot growing in the pit of his stomach, adding to the discomfort he was already experiencing because of the painful catch behind his breastbone. Sith, but he wished Chewie would slow down!

The streets near the spaceport had been crowded with sentients from dozens of different worlds. As the pair moved further away from the docking rings, though, there were far fewer beings, and far fewer kinds of beings. However, as he looked around the warren of dirty, narrow streets lined with warehouses, Luke wasn't sure which stuck out more—his wide-eyed stare or Chewbacca's ferocious scowl.

The Wookiee finally slowed as he entered a tight through-way lined with locked doors, portals and hatches, at least some of which, Luke assumed, would be big enough to handle the delivery of a back-up generator. This must be the place. Luke nearly plowed into Chewie's broad chest when his friend turned suddenly and warbled out a question.

"What?" Luke panted. "No, General Rieekan didn't give me an address for our contact, and he didn't tell me if he was the one who actually had the generators. He didn't tell you?"

Chewie barked back a sarcastic retort.

Luke held up a placating hand. "Okay, you wouldn't have asked if you already knew." He looked around the dim alleyway. He didn't see any sort of identification over the closed and sealed entranceways; there probably wasn't such a thing as an exact address in this part of town. "I thought you and Han knew who we were supposed to see."

Chewbacca responded with an angry snarl and an equally irritated wave of his arms. Luke stepped back to avoid the flying fur.

"I'm sorry, Chewie, I didn't mean anything!" Luke looked cautiously up at his friend. Even after almost three years he was still a little intimidated by Chewbacca's snarls, even though he knew that most times it was just Chewie blowing off a little steam. "We'll just have to figure this out for ourselves." He looked around the narrow space with an uncertain look on his face. "You know what to do," he said, "and I'm not very good at this sort of thing."

Chewie awrooed, pleased by the compliment, and ruffled Luke's hair in an avuncular fashion. The young man brushed it back down with a faint smile.

"We could comm Han," Luke continued, still trying to help.

This idea was met by a negative bark and an emphatic shake of Chewie's head. Han needed to focus all his attention on the princess, he informed Luke

Luke looked sharply up at the Wookiee's face; that was an odd way to put things, but Chewbacca's face was bland.

The Wookiee scanned down the row, surveying the doors of the alley. His roaming blue eyes suddenly halted, fixing on a single unmarked door at the far end of the enclosure. To Luke, it looked like every other door in the alley, but Chewbacca apparently saw something the blond didn't. He pointed at the door and warbled out something Luke couldn't quite catch.

"Sorry, Chewie, but—" Luke started.

He never had a chance to finish his thought. With a groan and a mighty shrug, the Wookiee grabbed Luke's arm in one huge hand and propelled him toward the nondescript entranceway.

####

**Leia pulled a gauzy hood up over her head.** The material was thin enough that the princess could still see through it—mostly—and yet it still served to blur the features of her face to most observers. She stretched her petite frame as tall as she could make it; trying to peer over the heads of the beings that crowded the street.

"What are you looking for?" Han asked her tersely.

"A hovercab, or a public tram. Some way for us to get across town to get to the bank. We certainly can't walk the whole way." Unconsciously, Leia held out a foot, grimacing as she wiggled it.

Han noted the movement with a sneer. "No, we can't," he agreed. He surveyed the streets, crowded with pedestrians and vehicles of all sorts, from speeder bikes to hover-lorries. What they needed was something enclosed, with darkened transparasteel windows.

"There!" Leia pointed down a busy thoroughfare. Han followed her finger. The blue and red holo for the public tram system glowed in the middle distance.

"I don't think so, your Worship," he said tightly. He guided her arm back down to her side. When she raised her voice to object, Han shook his head with a small, sharp gesture. "Try not to draw any more attention to yourself than you have to," he warned her. "Or, than you already have," he added, looking her up and down. Taking her elbow, he piloted the reluctant princess in the opposite direction of the tram and toward a low, elegant looking building with several long, shiny speeders parked next to it.

"Let go of me," Leia hissed.

Startled, Han looked down at his hand on her arm. In his hyper-alert state, he hadn't realized he had her in such a tight grasp.

"Sorry. " Han loosened his grip but didn't release her arm, which was a good thing when Leia realized their destination.

Leia stopped dead in her tracks. "We can't afford this! The Alliance can't afford this." She tried to pull away from the Corellian's authoritative grasp, but didn't succeed. She conceded by pillorying Han with a scowl. Han didn't even twitch; he'd received the same look from the princess so many times he was immune to its effects.

"I've got this," he informed her. "Don't worry. Besides, it'll make it look good, since you're supposed to be someone important," Han baited her. _And it'll keep you from getting blown to pieces, _he thought. Han guided her through the doorway and into the interior of Master Rungar's Discreet Leasing. "It's probably best if you let me do the talking," he advised her.

Master Rungar himself was on duty, which Han deduced from the man's resemblance to the large logo shimmering on the wall behind the counter. He was a dapper man, with shoulder length silver hair and a lithe, dancer's body. He would have been a handsome being, if it weren't for a narrow, pointy nose and a spiky mustache that made him resemble an overly tall womprat. Rungar's eyes traveled from Leia's elegant accoutrements to Han's scruffy spacer clothes—and the grip he had on the princess's arm. The eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Madame," he addressed Leia in an unctuous voice. "Is there any way I can be of assistance to you?" Rungar placed all the emphasis on the word 'you.' "Is this—person—bothering you? Shall I call for the patrollers?"

Han could see the malicious spark hiding behind the innocent look in Leia's big brown eyes as she looked mutely up at him, lips pressed firmly together. _You wretched woman!_ he thought, even as he smiled benignly back at her.

"We're good," Han said shortly. "Aren't we, madam?"

"Thank you for being so considerate, sir," Leia contributed with a purr, "but there's no need for that. I'm completely in control of the situation." Han's grip on her arm tightened involuntarily, then loosened. "What my assistant and I—"

"What we need is to rent an armored speeder," Han interjected, before the princess could continue. "The lady needs a safe way to get to a meeting in the financial district—then safely back to the spaceport."

"Certainly. And you are?" Rungar asked, his eyebrows waggling, which only made him look more like a womprat.

"I'm her bodyguard."

"Ah." The mustache quivered; Han bit back a chuckle. He wouldn't have been surprised to see Rungar hop.

The chuckle died a quick death when Rungar named an exorbitant rental fee. Han could feel Leia stiffen at the cost. Doing some quick calculations, he determined that the credit chit he produced from inside his vest had enough left on it to cover the fee. The man from whom he'd stolen it three years ago had left a sizable balance.

Three years ago. Unconsciously, his fingers closed around the chit. Three years ago he'd liberated the item from one of Jabba's agents. He'd needed the extra money to make a few repairs on the Falcon before embarking on the ill-fated run when he'd had to dump the spice. When he'd stolen it, Jabba had found the whole thing amusing, but now… If he used the card now, it was possible one of Jabba's crew would be alerted to his whereabouts. Han had kept the card in case of an emergency. He'd only used it one time in the last three years. But neither could he leave Leia exposed to the Empire, or Black Sun. _I guess that makes this an emergency._

He handed the slender card over to Master Rungar under Leia's disapproving stare. However, she kept her thoughts to herself until they were safely ensconced in a sleek black speeder with tinted windows and enough armored plating to make Leia wonder how it could possibly stay suspended on its repulsors.

"I thought you didn't have any money!" Leia hissed at him from the passenger compartment.

"I don't," Han said cheerfully, as he maneuvered the speeder out into the busy flow of traffic.

"Then how did you pay for this monstrosity?"

"It's not my money," he explained, his good humor slipping inexorably away under Leia's questions.

"You're using stolen money!" Leia objected.

"Listen," Han continued. "Yeah, I stole the chit, but it was a long time ago. And he never put a claim in," he hurried on. "He probably stole it from somebody else."

"That doesn't make what you're doing right!"

Han paused in the process of entering the address of the bank into the vidmap, and turned to look at the princess. "We can discuss morality some other time. I just keep it for emergencies. I thought this qualified as one." He met Leia's steely gaze and looked away, feeling unusually uncomfortable under her stare.

There was a moment of silence from the back of the speeder. "We'll talk about this later," she said finally. She looked at the chrono on the control console. "We'd better get going," she suggested.

"Whatever you say, your Worship." Han moved the speeder forward. Having that credit chit had never bothered him before; it wasn't like the guy he'd stolen it from had been an upstanding citizen. _Kriff, Solo! Where'd you suddenly get a conscience from?_

He looked over his shoulder as he shifted lanes. The answer to his question hit him then, all at once, the way answers did sometimes. His newfound conscience was sitting behind him in the speeder, dressed like a queen.

####

Luke grabbed at Chewie's arm, trying to stop their headlong rush down the narrow alleyway, even though he knew that it was a lost cause. The Wookiee only grunted a quick_ trust me_ as he approached an unadorned doorway that, to Luke's mind, looked no different than any other entrance in the passage. It was only when Chewie raised his arm to pound on the door that Luke was able to stop him, by literally throwing himself in front of his friend.

"Wait! Chewie! Before we just knock, how do you know this is the right place?" Luke clutched the Wookiee's arm in both of his. Chewie tried to shake the blond's hand off him, but Luke held tight. "How can I help you," Luke asked, "if I don't know what I'm doing."

Chewie paused to consider this. With an embarrassed shrug, he dropped his arm. Luke shook his aching arms.

"Okay, Chewie, explain it to me."

Chewbacca pointed up at something high above the battered slide track for the door. Craning his head back, Luke could see three parallel lines scratched into the brick. The lines all leaned to the right.

"What do they mean?" Luke asked. He could only marvel at how Chewie could have seen the faint markings from the end of the alley before he remembered that Wookiees were natural born hunters. Keen eyesight would be an obvious asset.

Speaking in a soft rumble, Chewbacca explained that those marks meant the dealer was an independent.

"Independent what?" The young man's brows drew together.

Chewie opened his mouth to elaborate when the door slid open. Luke fumbled for his blaster as the Wookiee was yanked into the bright interior of the building. Shielding his eyes against the light, Luke aimed at the being who now had the Wookiee in a rib cracking hold. Only a warning shout from Chewie kept him from shooting.

"You know him?" Luke queried dubiously. Chewie barked imperiously and Luke stepped inside. Another bark had him hunting for the controls to close and lock the door. From the resonant thud as it slid shut, Luke concluded that the door had an automatic security seal on it.

As his eyes adjusted to the light, Luke squinted at the man with his arm around Chewbacca. He was quite a sight. He was as tall as the Wookiee, and broader through the shoulders and chest, if such a thing were possible. His skin was the color of strong kaf, and riddled with enough tattoos to make it look like fleckrock from Beggars Canyon. Startlingly, the man's eyes were as blue as Chewie's.

"Independent means I don't align myself with any so-called government—they're just a bunch of thieving bureaucrats anyway." The voice was another surprise; even though he spoke with the unschooled cant favored by those who lived on the edge of the law, his tone sounded very much like Threepio's cultured whine. He untangled his arm from Chewie's fur and held out his hand to Luke. "I'm Marak," he said.

Luke looked down at the outstretched hand, which was approximately the same diameter as a dinner plate, and then up at Chewie. The Wookiee barked encouragingly.

_Well_, Luke thought_, if Chewie trusts him, than I should too_. He allowed his own hand to be engulfed by Marak's.

"Who are you?" Marak asked reasonably.

"Luke Skywalker."

"And you're here to purchase some generators?"

"That's right." A tiny seed of distrust was starting to germinate in the back of Luke's mind. He risked a glance at Chewbacca, but the Wookiee seemed no different than usual.

"Let me guess," Marak continued in the same silkily friendly tone Luke suddenly had a very bad feeling about. "You wanna use them to protect some sort of secret base of operations."

Chewie wawrooled; an odd sound that meant _Huh? Wait a minute? _in Shyriiwook. Luke wondered if Marak knew that. Chewbacca casually moved his right hand down to his hip, near to where he could reach for his bowcaster.

Obviously Markak knew. "I wouldn't do that, Chewie my friend," he warned, without turning his eyes away from Luke. "Because if you do, my friend here will just blow your friend here's head off." A scraggly looking Bothan slipped out from behind the generators they'd come to procure. His rather large blaster was pointed at Luke's midsection. Center mass, they called it, the boy thought unhappily.

Chewbacca roared in impotent rage.

"Yeah, I know this really is a dirty trick," Marak told the Wookiee. "But my friend here saw you at the spaceport with Solo—I can't believe your still hanging around with him—and that pretty little piece dressed like a princess." His smile was wide; his blue eyes filled with malice. "And that's what she is, isn't she? A princess. "

Chewie snarled, baring his fangs.

"I know," Marak agreed, holding up his hand. "But my friends with Black Sun really would like some of that Alderaan money. So here's the deal. I'll hang onto your friend here, you get me that money."

Chewie growled out some choice invective along with his response, a resounding negative.

The Bothan drew closer to Luke; the sound of his charging blaster was audible to everyone.

"Do you really want to test me?" the Bothan asked.

Luke looked imploringly at his friend, even while his hand moved slowly toward the lightsaber clipped to his belt. Not everyone recognized it as a weapon, Luke thought, _if he could just get his hand on it…_

Chewie roared and swung out, providing Luke the distraction he needed.

It would have worked, too, if the Bothan hadn't knocked Luke a glancing blow on the side of his head with his blaster. The boy fell to his hands and knees; the lightsaber rolled away.

"Now that we're finished with negotiations," Marak snarled, obviously through with his false cheer. He grabbed Luke by the hair, yanking him upright with one swift, painful movement. "I'll stay with your friend. You go get me my money."


	7. Chapter 7

_Heartfelt thanks to everyone who's reading and following this story. Also, many thanks to those of you who have reviewed it. And thanks yet again to my wonderful betas jublke and StatsGrandma 57. I couldn't do it without your help._

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Six_

Han pulled the speeder into a narrow thruway behind the financial complex and cut the engine. The vehicle floated gently on its repulsors, swaying only a little as Han turned to face the princess seated behind him.

"Here's what we're going to do, your Worship," Han began.

"Why are we stopped here?" Leia demanded.

"We need to discuss our entrance strategy. And our exit strategy." The Corellian shifted, causing the vehicle to dip again as he draped his arm over the back of the seat. "It's probably best if I go in first, check to make sure it's safe—"

Leia leaned forward, her smaller form not causing the least bit of sway on the repulsors. "We're going to walk in the front door; I'll go first, you'll walk behind me. We'll go directly to Master Nongim's office. I'll give him the appropriate information; he'll get the money. Then, hopefully, we'll get back to the ship without incident and we can leave this pestilent planet." The princess rattled out her instructions at a rate just below lightspeed; her tone was brittle, and it brooked no argument.

"Listen, your Worshipfulness," Han began, his temper flaring. It cooled almost immediately when he saw the haunted look in Leia's dark eyes. There was anguish lurking just behind their hardness, along with large dose of uncertainty—something he could only recall seeing in her face once before—on Yavin 4, just after the destruction of the Death Star, when she thought no one was looking.

"Princess," he began again in a normal voice, "I know this is hard for you."

"The only thing that's making this hard is you, Captain," Leia responded hotly. "If you would just do what I told you to do, we could get this over with," she spat at him.

Han bit back his harsh retort, pressing his lips firmly together. The princess was hiding her pain behind an angry mask, but he knew it was there—so real he could almost touch it.

"Leia," was all he said as he watched her.

She seemed to shrink under his intent gaze.

"Okay, I hate this! Are you happy?" Leia's voice quavered as she ran a hand over the heavy fabric of her gown. "We copied this dress from a holo of my mother. It was one of her favorites. Mother loved to dress up; I don't." She took a deep breath and hurried on before Han could say anything. "I can remember when my father set up these accounts. He said he wanted to make sure that if something happened to him, that the money would still be there for the Rebellion." Leia blinked back tears. "I laughed and told him not to be so melodramatic!"

"You were just a kid then," Han reminded her. _You're still a kid, _he said to himself."You couldn't have seen what was going to happen. Nobody could have."

Leia continued as if she hadn't heard him. Maybe she hadn't. "And now I'm dressed like my dead mother, going to get the money my dead father set aside for a rebellion we're losing!"

Han had known this would hurt her—he'd known that when he'd talked with Rieekan—he just hadn't realized how much. And he hadn't known then how much her pain would bother him.

"Hey, it's okay," he said, knowing that it wasn't. "We'll just go in, get the credits, and get out of there as quick as we can." Han grimaced as he realized this was exactly what the princess had said to him a few minutes before. "I just want to make sure that no one is in there looking for you," he said. "That wouldn't do the Rebellion any good," he tacked on quickly.

Nothing but silence came from the back of the speeder. Finally, Leia gave a sad little smile.

"Thank you, Han."

"For what?" The Corellian looked at her.

"Just…thank you."

####

**Luke sat perfectly still on the cold duracrete floor. **His eyes were closed; his breathing was slow and easy. He let the Force flow through him. At least he hoped he was letting the Force flow through him. It occurred to him that if he were really one with the Force, his tailbone probably wouldn't hurt as much as it did right now!

Shifting his weight, the young man opened his eyes. His Bothan guard was leaning against one of the generators. His blaster was held loosely in his hands, making it seem as if he really wasn't on his guard, but Luke had spent enough time with Han to not underestimate his captor's watchfulness. Just to see what would happen, Luke moved as if he were about to rise. Sure enough, before he could even get his feet underneath him, the blaster was once again aimed at his midsection. Cautiously, he returned to his original position.

"I'm just trying to get comfortable," he explained.

The Bothan said nothing, merely indicating with a quick movement of the blaster that the boy should remain where he was.

Luke nodded assent with what he hoped was a disarming smile.

Even though this was only what he'd expected, he felt disgusted. Instead of helping the mission, he was complicating it. Would there ever be a time when he was something more than the Tatooine farm-boy—or just the kid—as Han insisted on calling him? He'd been with the Alliance for almost three years and what had he accomplished? Nothing! Leia—well everyone, actually—was still calling on him to be back-up for Han. Han didn't even belong to the Alliance!

Luke paused his mental tantrum and breathed out a wry laugh. The Bothan quickly lifted his blaster at the sound, but Luke merely waved his hand in surrender. His brain, or maybe it was just his ego, he told himself, was running away with all the self-direction of a spooked bantha herd. Of course he'd done plenty of things for the Rebellion. He was an excellent X-wing pilot and the leader of Rogue Squadron. He'd helped Leia on plenty of missions; he especially remembered the few Han _hadn't_ been on. His uncertain smile grew wide and proud as he reminded himself that it was he who'd destroyed the Death Star. It was his expert piloting skills, and use of the Force, that had done the job there. Luke had barely needed Han's last minute assistance, he told himself, blithely ignoring the fact that without that timely assistance, Luke most likely would have been just another grease spot on the surface of the Death Star.

Well, he would use the Force again, instead of waiting meekly for Han, Leia, and Chewbacca to come and rescue him.

Luke closed his eyes and cleared his mind; reaching out with the Force, expanding his senses and feeling—

Nothing! All Luke felt at the moment was foolish. Who was he trying to kid? He had neither the training nor the experience to use the Force in that way. Worse, the Force didn't come with instructions, and Ben Kenobi didn't exactly pop-in whenever Luke needed him. With a resigned sigh, he leaned his head back against the cold wall, and narrowed his eyes to slits.

It was at that exact moment that he saw it, as clearly as if he'd been holding it in his hand. His lightsaber, which he'd lost in the struggle with the Bothan, had rolled under one of the generators and lay there, unnoticed. Luke couldn't tear his eyes away from the weapon, though it appeared his guard remained unaware and uninterested. Now, all he had to do was figure out how to get to it.

####

**Han followed three steps behind the Princess as they entered the Center for Intergalactic Commerce. **He couldn't help but admire her sure steps and proud carriage as Leia strode regally toward the bank of lifts on the far side of the complex's main building. Sadly, her queenly accoutrements hid the other parts of her that Han enjoyed watching. That was just as well, he reminded himself. He wasn't here for sightseeing of any kind; he was here to make sure they got what they came for—and got out with their lives.

Posing as Leia's bodyguard gave Han the perfect cover for his vigilance. His eyes darted from a group of stalls selling kaf, sweets, and the like, on one side; to clusters of soberly clad beings checking financial reports projected on screens lining the opposite wall. Above the main floor, terraces and balconies soared upward to the roof of the building many stories above them. There were so many different places from which to stage an ambush, Han didn't know where to watch first.

Leia stopped at a desk near the banks of turbolifts.

"Good day," she politely addressed the security droid behind the desk. Its heavy armor plating contrasted with the ornate desk. "I have business with Master Nongim."

"Certainly, Madam," the droid intoned haughtily. "Your credentials, please." Han paused his surveillance to look at the severe bronze face. He wouldn't have believed it possible, but this unit sounded like a recent graduate from an Imperial City finishing school; he was even snootier than Threepio! A grin slid across his features at the thought, and was quickly vanquished. He thought he saw a matching smile on the princess's face, but it vanished so fast he couldn't be sure.

Leia handed the droid a small, square data card. Neither human breathed as the card was inserted into a reader. Han's hand hovered within easy reach of his blaster while they waited for the droid to read through the data displayed on a small, recessed screen. His fingers flexed and released convulsively—it was taking too long!

"Everything is in order, your Highness," the droid finally intoned, with a brief nod of its ugly, plug-like head. "You are cleared to join Master Nongim in his office." Red photoreceptors turned to Han. "This being?" The droid let the question dangle.

Han's fingers flexed again and dipped lower toward the butt of his weapon, only to be halted by the cool touch of Leia's fingers.

"…is my assistant," the princess finished. Her steady gaze dripped with royal hauteur. Han found himself wishing he could have seen her in action on the floor of the Imperial Senate. He'd never realized how effective a tool snobbery could be. The droid looked away first, Han noted with satisfaction. His hand relaxed.

"Certainly, your Highness. Let me just summon an escort droid." Its stubby fingers moved to depress a toggle in the desk.

"We can find our own way," Leia interjected quickly; she'd seen the quick shake of Han's head. "I am most comfortable with my own escort." She graced the droid with another steely glare.

"As you wish, Princess," the droid acquiesced. "Please use turbolift 3-jenth.

Leia turned and sailed across the crowded floor in a swirl of elegant robes; Han trailing in her wake. He didn't catch up to her until they stood waiting for the lift.

"Well done, your Royalness," he said with a cocky, admiring smile.

"Don't call me that," Leia replied automatically, but her usual icy tone was gone.

####

"_**Use the Force, Luke. Let go, Luke!"**_

That was great advice, as far as it went. The problem was that it wasn't working. Luke had been trying for the last ten standard minutes to will his lightsaber to levitate to him—he'd even have been happy if it had _rolled_ to him—but the weapon remained motionless, as stubbornly obdurate as Han could be. Luke's Bothan guard had actually asked him if he was feeling alright, informing the young man he had a funny look on his face.

Terrific!

Well, Luke had known that levitating via the Force had been a long shot—a very long shot. He just didn't have those skills, maybe he never would. He needed to use what skills he did possess to get his hands on that lightsaber.

When Luke had been in school on Tatooine, along with Biggs, Tank, Deak, and Windy, they had all successfully managed to feign illness in order to get out of classes. Admittedly, Luke hadn't been the best at it, Biggs had; and admittedly, they only had to fool the old K-TR80 educator droid, not a living being. But the Bothan already thought there might be something wrong with Luke, and he wasn't a human. It was worth a try; it was certainly better than sitting here on the cold floor.

Luke coughed loudly, burying his face in his hands. While he hacked, he poked a finger in each eye hard enough to bring tears streaming down his face. He pressed his thumbs against his face with enough force to bring a bright spot of color to each cheek. When he pulled his hands away from his face, the Bothan guard looked at him with undisguised dismay. _Thanks for the tips, Biggs!_

"I don't feel so good," Luke wheezed.

The guard made no move to come toward Luke. "Well, keep it to yourself, will you?"

How was he supposed to jump him and get the blaster away from him, Luke wondered frantically, if he wouldn't get near him?

"I think I'm going to be sick!"

With a convincing moan of agony, Luke began to lurch to his feet. He only made it part way up before the Bothan was directly in front of him. Leaning forward, the young man only half pretended to lose his balance. He crashed heavily into his captor, taking them both down to the floor and successfully ruining the Bothan's aim with the blaster. The bolt sizzled into the floor where Luke had been sitting.

By now, the Bothan thug realized he'd been played. With an angry snarl, he grabbed for his blaster, but Luke succeeded in knocking it out of the Bothan's reach. Of course, he'd knocked it out of his own reach, too. The angry guard hauled himself to his feet as Luke skittered across the floor away from him. Howling with rage, the guard flung himself around Luke's knees, knocking him face-first into the floor with a thud. Stars dancing in front of his eyes, Luke reached blindly for his lightsaber, stretching as far as he could. It was just beyond his grasping fingers…

Then it was in his hand. _Use the Force, Luke!_ Apparently he had. In one swift motion, Luke thumbed the control, and with a snap-hiss, the blade ignited. With both hands he swung the blade in the direction of his attacker.

This time, the Bothan howled in agony. Luke blinked back the tears that were streaming down his face after its abrupt encounter with the duracrete floor. His stomach lurched when he saw the guard's arm several meters away from the rest of the guard's body.

_Run, Luke!_

He looked up and around at the sound of his mentor's voice. _Thanks, Ben, _Luke thought_, but_ _I figured that one out for myself. _Tucking the guard's blaster into his belt, Luke shut down the lightsaber and ran out the door.

####

**The door to Master Nongim's office slid shut behind them with a courteous yet emphatic thump. **Han emitted a gusty sigh of relief.

"Well played, your Worship," Han said. He used the appellation without rancor, his voice filled with honest admiration. "Either Banker Nongim is a rebel sympathizer or he had no clue that you're at the top of the Empire's most wanted list." He grinned his approval.

The smile faded to uncertainty as he watched the princess's back. He wasn't positive, but he thought he saw the slight shoulders shudder underneath the heavy gown she wore.

"Leia?"

She turned to look at the smuggler, her eyes steady and her lips firm. And her face was as white and drawn as it had been the night after Luke had blown the Death Star, and she'd thought she was alone in Yavin 4's jungle to mourn her lost home and family. She'd held herself together that night by the sheer power of her will, and it appeared she was doing the same thing now.

"I've got what I came for," Leia said, her voice unnaturally harsh. She raised the bag containing a combination of credits and gems. She swallowed once and blinked rapidly. When she continued, her voice sounded almost normal again. "Let's just get back to the ship and get off this rock!" She turned back and began walking toward the lift.

His lips formed a slow, crooked smile. "You know, your Highness, I think you've been hanging around me too long. You're beginning to sound like me."

"The Maker preserve me!" Leia swore fervently, but some of the heaviness seemed to leave her footsteps.

Han checked to make sure they were alone in the corridor. He hurried to catch up with the princess. "Come on," he cajoled her. "You gotta admit, you like me!" After a moment's hesitation, he reached out and put an arm around Leia's shoulders.

"I tolerate you, Captain. Nothing more," she responded, but her tone reflected none of the irritation that the words did. Han noticed that she didn't try to shrug his arm away; she didn't even object to its placement!

What had Rieekan said to him, back in his office a few days ago? "_I think you might be surprised at the result if you do make your move." _

Han felt an unexpected wave of emotions flow through him—surprise and pleasure chief among them. Maybe, he thought, just maybe the general had been right.


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Sometimes it takes a village. Not only do I need to thank my betas-jublke and StatsGrandma57- for their invaluable help, as usual. I also need to thank Jeanmarie3 for taking part in my very informal focus group as I tried to decide which ending to go with. Thank you all! _

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Seven_

Chewie reached for his 'link at least a half dozen times as he retraced the route back toward the docking bays and the _Millennium_ _Falcon_. Each time, however, he stowed it away unused. He wanted to warn Han—he needed to warn Han—that Black Sun had identified the princess, but if he and Leia changed their actions in any way, that would tip off Black Sun and might cause them to do something more straightforward than holding Luke hostage. And that was straightforward enough.

_Marak, that Devorian slime worm_! Chewbacca's lips pulled back in an angry snarl as he considered the man's treachery. Several nearby humans, one Twi'lek, and a couple of cleaning droids all shied back at the sound. _Good,_ he thought with a toothy grin that closely resembled the snarl; he needed some respect right now. He didn't think Marak would kill Luke outright, but he hadn't expected him to be in league with Black Sun, either. He snarled again, this time as much at himself as anyone else. He needed to put his thoughts in order—he needed a drink.

The Wookiee spied a cantina down and across the busy road. With supreme indifference to the oncoming traffic, Chewie stepped into the stream of vehicles and made his way across the street. As he'd expected, nothing came close to touching him; no one wanted to hit a Wookiee—it might slow them down, it would certainly damage their vehicle, and they would run the risk of losing an arm. Wookiee tempers were legendary for a reason.

The cantina's holosign flickered and sputtered as if there was a short in its power source, and the smell that wafted out of its dim interior seemed reminiscent of rocket fuel. He smiled with relief as he stepped inside; this was just the kind of place he needed.

Seated on a cracked banquette, Chewbacca idly turned the mug of what the server droid assured him was Devorian whiskey in his huge hands and contemplated the pieces of the puzzle. Black Sun had identified the princess back at the space docks, Marak had said so. So why hadn't they just made their move then? Probably because there were too many security types on duty there, and because they needed her to get the money first. After she had the money, she and Han would be in more danger, but Chewie was certain his friend already knew this.

He lifted the mug to his mouth, but paused as his nose twitched convulsively. Rocket fuel—it really smelled like rocket fuel. With a sigh, he put the mug back down on the sticky tabletop. And what about Marak? Marak knew who they all were, and that they were working with the Rebel Alliance. That wasn't good. And he had Luke, which just complicated matters. That was worse. And Marak had the generators that Echo base so desperately needed. So how was he going to work around these problems? Thoughtfully, he raised the mug to his lips, then put it down again without tasting it.

Luke was the first piece of the puzzle to be dealt with. Obviously, Chewie wasn't happy that the young man was being held as hostage; his lip curled back at the very thought, just showing his teeth. But he also believed that Luke was both clever enough and resourceful enough to take care of himself until Chewie could get back to Marak's. The farm boy was very much like the fiery little princess in that respect. It surprised him sometimes how similar those two were; there was a spark in them both, a strength. No, for a little while Luke could take care of himself. Let that snake Marak think that Chewie was running around, desperate for a way to get his friend out—then he would sneak in and get Luke, and break Marak's head at the same time.

The princess was in danger, too, Chewie thought with a frown, especially since Black Sun was aware of who she was, and had designs on the money she had come to Ord Mantell to retrieve. But then, she always was in danger. His brow unfurrowed. Han would let nothing happen to Leia, of that he was sure. His friend had always been very protective of her, ever since the Death Star, and now that he was in love with her… No, Han would do everything in his power to keep Leia safe.

Satisfied that things were under control, Chewbacca raised the whiskey to his lips and drank down half of it one gulp. Immediately, he began to sneeze, one after another, until his eyes watered and he was gasping for breath. With a wheezing roar, he threw the mug and the rest of its contents across the table. It landed on the floor with a wet crash, splattering pieces of crockery and bad whiskey for several meters.

He was just getting ready to dismember the serving droid when his comm beeped for attention. Turning to face the corner, he thumbed it on and snarled into it.

"Chewie?" Luke's voice rasped over the 'link. "Is that you? Are you all right?"

With effort, the Wookiee got his temper under control. He assured Luke that he was fine, and asked where the young man was. He hoped this wasn't some new threat from Marak; the boy sounded breathless and a little unsure.

"I don't know where I am exactly," Luke answered him. "That's part of the problem. All I can tell you is that I'm somewhere between Marak's and the docks." The farm boy paused, then continued with pardonable pride. "But I got away."

Chewbacca barked at Luke to stay where he was, that he would come and retrieve him. With one final snarl at the server droid, the Wookiee rose, tossed a credit on the table, and left the cantina.

_Sorry about the mess_, he rumbled unapologetically as he walked outside.

####

**Han bowed Leia back into the speeder with an exaggerated sweep of his hand. **Leia's only response, a haughty nod and an irritated roll of her eyes, was negated in Han's mind by the quick upturn of the princess's lips. With more enthusiasm than the situation warranted, Han climbed back into the driver's place.

"Well, your Worship, that went off without a hitch," Han observed. "I'm glad my plan worked out so well."

"Your plan? You are by far the most insufferable, intolerable, laser-brained—"

"I like you too, your highness." Han interrupted. His lopsided grin lit the cabin's interior like a beacon.

Leia stared angrily at him for a heartbeat, before her face softened and she answered him with a smile of her own.

The sudden rush of adrenaline and hormones through his system at the sight of that smile made Han almost giddy, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a very long time. He could learn to like it, he thought. He turned back to the speeder's controls and ignited the engine.

"Where to now, your Worship?"

"Back to the _Falcon_," Leia requested. "I want to get out of these clothes. And these shoes." With a groan, she kicked the offending items off her feet.

"Leia?" Han said, as he moved the speeder out into the busy stream of traffic. "I know it was hard for you, dressing like that, but you look really nice."

The princess leaned forward to look into the driver's compartment. The tinted transparsteel created a mirror-like effect in the windows; she could see the Corellian's face clearly in the front screen. There was no trace of mockery or teasing in his features now, only sincere praise.

"Thank you, Han." She settled back in her seat with a pleased smile of her own that her driver couldn't see.

####

**Luke Skywalker felt like a womp rat in a gundark den. **He should have told Chewie that he'd find his own way back to the _Falcon_, instead of standing here on a corner waiting to be found. He wasn't that lost, and he wasn't a little kid! But the Wookiee had told him they still needed to get those generators—which they did. Luke just wasn't sure how they were going to do that when their supplier was a criminal. Or, he amended, a bigger criminal than what they'd been expecting. He rubbed absently at his bruised cheek as he watched the trickle of beings traversing this part of the city. He had to admit it was an interesting sight—pedestrian traffic was light, but it certainly was varied—with humans and nonhumans in about equal number. Droids were much less evident; he wondered if there were more indoors.

A prickly feeling at the back of his neck had Luke slipping into a recessed doorway. The shop that it led into apparently had been closed for some time, thank the Maker. There was something about the droid who had just turned out of the narrow lane that led from Marak's shop toward the busy spaceport throughway that gave him a very bad feeling. Luke hoped that it was the Force that had him hiding his face and looking away, but even if it was only his gut—as Han was fond of using as his barometer—he'd take it.

The droid just felt wrong. It was tall and lean, with a vaguely disquieting cylindrical head. While it had two arms and two legs in a human configuration as Threepio did, instead of the glossy outer shell and friendly—_human_—feel the protocol droid exuded, this droid's dull exterior seemed absorb in light instead of reflect it, and there was nothing human-feeling about it at all. The whole sensation screamed threat. More to the point, Luke was pretty sure that one of the droid's appendages ended in a lethal-looking blaster.

He pulled out his comlink and thumbed it on. He needed to contact Chewie.

####

**Master Rungar was still on duty when Han delivered the rented speeder back to the office. **While Leia waited indoors, Rungar minced outside with Han, and inspected every last millimeter of the vehicle. The Corellian muttered a litany of obscenities under his breath as Rungar rubbed this panel and fingered that control, his mustache twitching. Even worse, every supposed dent, ding, or scar was being dutifully recorded by Rungar's Rodian assistant. Han ground his teeth together in sheer frustration.

_Kriffing terrific, _he thought, _probably some second cousin—three times removed, of course—of Greedo's. The Rodians are such an inbred, incestuous bunch. Just what I need right now, another relative of the dead bounty hunter's hoping for revenge—or for Jabba's bounty._

Han's hand had actually dipped down to the butt of his blaster, the quickest way he could think of to end this charade, when Leia's cool fingers touched his wrist. He jerked his hand back.

"Master Rungar, there isn't a problem, is there?" she asked the proprietor, a serene smile on her face.

"Oh!" Rungar started a little as he turned to face the princess. "Madam, I wasn't aware you'd joined us." A double row of furrows wrinkled his forehead as his nose jerked upward. "No, madam," he continued, "there's no problem. It's just that this is a very expensive vehicle. I need to protect my investment."

"And we took very good care of your investment," Leia assured him. She looked steadily up into his eyes as she brushed her hand over his.

"Yes, you obviously took very good care of my investment," Rungar intoned.

Han's eyebrows soared up to his hairline. "We'll just be leaving," he said, opting to go while the going was good. He grasped Leia's elbow firmly as he guided her toward the busy street.

"Don't you want a receipt?" Master Rungar called after them.

"No, we're good!" Han propelled the princess away from the leasing office. He'd seen the Rodian's antennae twitch with interest when Leia had appeared, and he wasn't about to hang around to find out if they'd been made.

"How do you do that?" Han asked Leia as their steps slowed to normal.

"Do what?" The princess was honestly confused.

"Get people to do what you want them to." Han wasn't thinking about the number of times she'd gotten _him_ to do what she wanted; that was something completely different from what had just happened.

"I _am_ a trained diplomat," Leia reminded him. "Diplomacy is all about getting people to do what you want them to, and to think it was their idea." She smiled smugly up at him. "I'm very good at it."

Han said nothing, merely slanted her a lopsided grin.

####

**Chewie smiled as he handed credits over to the sharp-eyed dealer of used freight-speeders. **He'd gotten a very good deal on the use of a large speeder in order to transport generators from Marak's shop to the _Millennium_ _Falcon_. It was a good hover-truck at a very cheap price—and he'd only had to show his teeth a little. He was just getting ready to comm Luke with the updated plan when the device bleated in his hand.

"Chewie?" Luke's voice came over the 'link in a loud whisper. "I think we have a problem."

The Wookiee yowled impatiently; he really wasn't in the mood for any more problems. In fact, if it wasn't Black Sun, he rumbled on, it really wasn't a problem at all.

"Does Black Sun use dangerous-looking droids?" Luke countered.

The farm boy's question drew Chewbacca up short. He growled low in his throat at the individual who suggested he move his hover truck and his hairy self out of the way, before asking Luke what he meant by dangerous.

By the time the young man finished describing the droid in question, the fur was twitching up all along Chewie's spine. No, it wasn't Black Sun, it was worse. Chewbacca was familiar with only one droid matching that ominous description—IG-88. He moaned long and low in frustration. The IG-88 series were assassin droids, and they'd been banned long ago. They were just too good at their assigned tasks and no amount of programmed-in safeguards could keep them in check. Not that this stopped certain beings from making use of the dangerous droids. Chewie was reasonably certain that neither Darth Vader, nor Jabba, would hesitate to use one.

The Wookiee mewled quietly to himself as one thought after another careened through his agitated brain. He needed to get back to Han; this was not something that even the resourceful Corellian could handle on his own, especially while his first thoughts would be for Leia's safety.

When the dealer interrupted his planning, asking Chewie if he really was going to take the vehicle he had just paid for, the Wookiee answered by pulling back his lips far enough to expose all of his sharp, predatory teeth. The man scampered away, gasping out apologies.

They still needed to get those generators from Marak, too, though Chewie supposed that now he didn't have enough extra time to beat the slimeball senseless. Too bad, he would have enjoyed that, but Marak was the least of their problems at the moment.

"Hey, Chewie! Chewie! Is everything okay? Do you need me to come?" Luke's panicky voice burst through Chewie's comm. With a roar, the Wookiee told him to stay right where he was, not to move, and to stay out of sight. He would be right there.

With a frustrated groan, Chewie guided the lift vehicle in the direction of Marak's shop. He was certain he would locate Luke along the way. Humans, he thought sadly, were just as difficult to deal with as cubs.

####

**They were very nearly at the entrance to the docking rings when Han suddenly pulled up short. **Leia, whose focus was once again on her aching feet since they'd returned the speeder, paused with her sigh of relief successfully hidden behind two eyebrows raised in exasperation.

"Now what?" she barked. "I thought we were going back to the ship."

"Yeah," Han answered. "Uh, your Wor-, Princess, uh Leia," he stumbled out. "I was wondering if you wanted to stop for something to eat." He indicated a pleasant-looking eatery, obviously intended for visitors to the spaceport. Han pulled out his comlink, checking the chrono on it. "We've got a little time before Chewie and the kid are due back with the generators. There haven't been any messages from them, so I guess everything went okay." He rubbed his hand over the back of his head, and leaned down toward the Princess. "I thought you might be hungry and I know the food on the _Falcon_ isn't always the best…" He let the thought run down as he looked at Leia.

She looked up at him as if he'd sprouted Devorian horns and a set of eyestalks. For Han Solo to admit that something within his precious ship wasn't perfect, and for him to act like a gentleman, was almost more than Leia's already beleaguered brain could handle. And the look on his face—instead of a smirk, his smile was hesitant, almost shy—or as shy as Han could manage, anyway. It was the sweetest thing Leia could remember seeing in quite some time.

"All right," she agreed. Her answering smile was nearly as uncertain as his.

"I mean it's okay if you don't want to—wait," Han stopped and looked closely at Leia's face, as if just seeing it for the first time. "Did you say yes?" he asked her.

"I said all right, it means the same thing."

Covering his surprise with a cocky grin, Han placed his hand on the small of Leia's back as he ushered her indoors.

####

**Chewbacca's roared instructions had been rather more emphatic than usual. **Luke didn't need the Force to tell him that the droid in question was something the Wookiee was familiar with—and concerned about. In a being less sublimely courageous than Chewie, he might have thought he sensed fear, but Luke knew that his friend reserved his fears for small, slimy things that were easily disposed of. His friend's idiosyncrasy in that respect brought a smile to Luke's face—the first one in hours.

However, Chewie's imminent arrival had done nothing to relieve Luke's bad feeling. In fact, his sense of foreboding had only gotten worse as he waited, as ordered. He had no doubt that the droid was heading for the docks, for Han, and especially for Leia. He knew that Chewbacca had every faith in Han's being able to protect the princess, and Luke knew that the Corellian would do his best, but there was nothing wrong with helping Han out. That was why Leia had wanted him along, wasn't it? Besides, Luke was thoroughly sick and tired of letting Han do all the rescuing.

With his hand resting on the hilt of his lightsaber, Luke stepped out of the shadowed doorway and onto the street. Squinting a little against the glare, he could just see the droid moving steadily in the direction of the space docks. All around it, the street traffic seemed to eddy as beings—and even vehicles—swirled out of its way.

The young man had just stepped out into the street when his arm was seized, clamped tight in a durasteel grip. Luke struggled against the hand, and tried to activate his lightsaber, when a howled admonition finally penetrated his adrenaline-soaked brain.

"Chewie! Ow!" Luke looked up into the Wookiee's blue eyes, which were sparking with some strong emotion. "Loosen up a little, that hurts."

Chewie warbled a single request.

Luke relaxed in the Wookiee's hold, letting his hand fall away from his weapon as Chewie had asked. "I'm sorry," he said, "but the droid is getting away. I didn't know when you were going to get here."

Chewie offered an affronted bark.

"I know you said you'd be right here." Luke looked imploringly up into the Wookiee's face. "But it's heading right toward Leia. And Han," he added.

Chewbacca growled that he understood, and just as soon as they loaded the generators they would go back to the spaceport. He was sure Han and the little princess would be safe until then.

Luke looked Chewie up and down, then asked with a smirk that would have been at home on Han's face.

"Just how are we supposed to get the generators back to the ship?" he asked. "Are you going to carry them?"

The Wookiee actually laughed; he smacked the young man on the back, causing him to stumble a step or two.

_Come with me, _Chewie warbled.

####

**Han had insisted on a table by the window, not only for its romantic ambiance, but so that he could watch for approaching threats. **At least he hadn't lost that much of his common sense. As for the rest of it, he wasn't so sure. Even as he watched Leia while she perused the limited, and pricey, menu, he wondered if he'd gone mad—just a little.

It had been three years—maybe a little longer, maybe a little less—since he'd been with a woman. That was a long time, a very long time. It wasn't that there hadn't been opportunities, of course. Some of the women on the base had practically thrown themselves at him, and he couldn't walk into a cantina without some attractive female flirting with him. And why not? A man with his looks, his personality, and his, uh…skills. A less than modest grin stole across his face as he remembered some of his amorous encounters of the past.

"Am I missing something?" Leia interrupted his thoughts with a tart question.

"No, I was just thinking."

The princess's eyebrows rose doubtfully, but she said nothing.

"See anything you like?" Han asked. He had to bite his tongue to keep from adding _your Worship._

"Everything looks wonderful," Leia responded, "but it's all overpriced. I'm not sure we can afford this."

"Don't worry," he smiled at her. "I've got this." Han pulled the stolen credit chit out of his pocket between two fingers.

The princess's mouth pulled down in disapproval. "I'm not going to eat using stolen money."

"Listen, I've had this for years, I'm sure no one's missing it anymore." He raised an eyebrow and gestured expansively. "We already used it for the speeder," Han rationalized. "We might as well use it for lunch." More to the point, he thought, he'd used it and nothing bad had happened. Just more proof that things were going well.

Leia stared at him for a long moment, her lips pursed, obviously considering. Then her mouth relaxed. "I'll have the aven tart," she said with an impish grin.

Even as he expelled the breath he'd been holding, Han felt desire flare inside him. This was one hells of a woman, he thought, and just maybe, she felt the same way about him.

He hadn't felt this way about a woman in at least three years. No, that wasn't right. Han actually experienced a moment of panicky disbelief. Han Solo had never felt about any woman the way he felt for Leia. Her Worshipfulness was stubborn, prickly, and fiery. She was perfect. Rieekan had said _make your move._ _Well_, Han thought, _this was as good a time as any_.

Fishing his comm out of his vest pocket, he checked for messages again. Nothing. That must mean things were still going as planned with Luke and Chewie. That was a relief. Han paused, his finger hovering over the control switch. His flicked his eyes up to Leia, who was now looking out the window. In one decisive movement, he thumbed the 'link off and stuffed it back in his pocket. They were so close they were practically on top of the Falcon, he'd heard no bad news from Chewie, and he had his blaster. After almost three years, he and the princess deserved a few minutes of time to themselves—there was no way of knowing when they'd have this chance again.

What could possibly go wrong?


	9. Chapter 9

_I realize it's taken me an awfully long time to update, thank you everyone for your patience. Thank you also to everyone who's followed, faved and reviewed. That means a lot to me._

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Eight_

"Chewie, how are we supposed to get those generators away from Marak?" Luke asked.

Chewbacca growled an angry response to the boy's question; he didn't actually say anything, just growled. Admittedly, right now most of the Wookiee's attention was focused on navigating the cumbersome speeder through the warren of streets and alleys that made up Ord Mantell's old district. Luke understood this. However, he still would have been happier if he knew what Chewie's plan was—or if he actually had a plan at all. The young man suspected that the Wookiee subscribed to the same philosophy that Han did: _Act first, plan only if everything else fails. _

"I mean, he's probably pretty mad that I got away," Luke tried again. "He's not going to sell them to us now."

Chewie warbled noncommittally as he negotiated a tight turn into the alley behind Marak's shop.

"I cut off that Bothan's arm," the young man continued, his tone vacillating somewhere between pride and horror. "Marak's probably not too happy about that either."

At that revelation, Chewie looked away from backing the speeder up to Marak's loading dock to grin toothily at the farm boy; he hawrooled his approval, noting that certainly the Bothan wasn't pleased with the outcome.

Luke only grimaced a little as the speeder bumped into the dock. So much for sneaking up on them. "So, what's your plan?" he pressed.

Jumping out of the speeder, the Wookiee spread his hands wide, shrugged and grinned. He huffed out a brief answer.

"Cracking Marak's skull and loading the generators isn't much of a plan," Luke admonished.

Chewie warbled shortly as he approached the door.

"I suppose it _is_ all we have time for," Luke agreed.

The two rebels approached the door carefully. Both were pretty sure that their arrival had been noticed—Chewie hadn't been trying to be stealthy—and they expected some sort of trap as they entered.

Unslinging his bowcaster, Chewie drew close to the portal. Behind him, Luke clutched his lightsaber. With a whispered bark, the Wookiee pointed out that the door was not flush in its track; it looked like something was blocking the mechanism. He extended his climbing claws on one hand and inserted them in the gap. Grunting, he tugged at the door, sliding it out of the way. He yowled with shock and dismay at what was keeping the door from closing.

A hand. A human hand.

From the size of it, Chewbacca seemed pretty sure the hand belonged to Marak. So was Luke, whose face had turned an ugly grey-green color. The young man swallowed forcibly several times in order to keep his stomach contents under control.

Chewie warbled an insistent question.

"Marak wasn't here when I escaped," Luke forced past stiff lips. "At least I didn't see him anywhere. It was only me and the guard." He turned stricken eyes at the Wookiee. "And it was an accident when I cut off the Bothan's arm. It just sort of happened!" He swallowed again. "I never would do anything like this." With a vague wave of his arm, he indicated the disembodied hand and the rest of the workshop. "A Jedi would never do this."

Gentling somewhat, Chewie patted Luke clumsily on the shoulder, and assured him that he knew this already. The Wookiee was as upset as Luke was by the carnage surrounding them.

It reminded Luke of the Imperial attack on the sandcrawler on Tatooine, back when he'd first met Ben Kenobi. Except that maybe this wasn't quite as neat. The contents of the workshop area were strewn about as if a very large and very strong child had had a temper tantrum. A very violent tantrum. There were tools, pieces of machinery, and bits of plastoid and durasteel shipping containers dashed helter-skelter throughout the open area. Only a very strong individual could have shredded those items.

Worse, though, was the blood; there were rusty red splashes from a human, and a coppery orange pool—obviously from a Bothan. In amongst the streaks and splatters were identifiable pieces of beings: a finger, a rib, hair, skin, and fur. There was no sign of blaster fire. It appeared as if both Marak and the Bothan had been torn limb from limb. Chewbacca lowed long and mournfully.

"Chewie," Luke asked. "What could do something like this?" He swallowed again, then looked up into the Wookiee's sad blue eyes. "Could you?"

Instead of the vehement denial Luke had expected, Chewie's answering wharrumph was thoughtful. Yes, physically, a Wookiee could do this. It was unlikely that any of his species would, however. This was obviously done in rage, and yes, a Wookiee would rage, but this was something more. It had been done with malice and vengeance. A Wookiee wouldn't do this, even to avenge a family member—or someone bound by a life-debt. It was just wrong.

"Then who would?" Luke asked quietly.

The Wookiee stopped to consider; it didn't take him long. "A Falleen," he answered.

####

_This is ridiculous, _Leia told herself as she delicately speared a piece of aven tart. _We're on a dangerous mission, in the middle of a war we're losing, and I decided it was a good time to stop for lunch. _Her fork hovering halfway between her plate and her mouth, the princess looked across the table at her companion.

Han was looking back at her. Of course he was looking at her; most of the time it seemed as if he could read her mind. He shot her a cocky half-grin before looking down to apply himself to his own food. Leia merely raised a brow and took a mouthful of her meal. The smug Corellian didn't need to know that his lopsided smile made her tingle all the way down to her toes, and especially in her midsection.

"How's your tart?" he asked her.

"It's very good," she answered, carefully maneuvering her full sleeves so that they didn't drag in the fragrant sauce spilling around the punctured tart on her plate.

"Good to know," Han responded, his smile taunting. "Since we're using stolen money and all." His eyes were wide and innocent.

The tingle disappeared, replaced by a hot flash of irritation. _Why did he always have to ruin everything with a smart-ass comment?_

Leia's pursed lips formed a tight, unpleasant smile. "Captain Solo, I really have no idea where your money comes from, and I have no desire for you to enlighten me," she said haughtily. Which was a lie, at least the first part of it; she was reasonably sure that a large portion of his funds were gained illicitly. And the second part was a lie, too, because she found that she really didn't care where it came from. Obviously Han Solo was having a bad influence on her.

"Whatever you say, your Worship," Han smiled raffishly around a piece of nerf steak so rare it would have pleased Chewie.

The princess heaved an exasperated sigh, just for form's sake. She thought—though she could be mistaken—that she saw the slightest bit of uncertainty behind Han's goading grin. Of course, it was always possible that it was wishful thinking on her part.

"How's your steak?" she asked him, instead of rising to his bait.

"I think it's the best I've ever had," he answered. "I don't suppose any of those credits we picked up today could go toward better food back at the base?" Han's smile slanted across his features.

Again Leia felt that damnable tingle. "No," she said. "Even with all we've got here," with a slight motion of her hand she indicated where the credits were hidden in the folds of her overdress, "there's hardly enough to keep us going as we are now." Suddenly, the weight of the war settled down on her again. The tingle gone, she set her fork down, and rested her hands on the small table.

Han reached over to rest his hand on one of hers. "Hey," he said gently, "it won't last forever. When we win…"

He never finished the sentence. At least Leia didn't think he did. Suddenly the meal, the restaurant and the busy spaceport—even the war—all melted away. All that she was aware of was the warm weight of Han's calloused hand on hers; the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. He leaned across the table toward her; she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the pulse beating in his neck—how full and inviting his lips looked as he moved closer, her own lips parting as she moved closer. _When we win…_

"Kriff!"

Leia jumped back as Han's other hand came down on the table. The hand over hers tightened convulsively before it opened and pulled back. Han was staring over her shoulder out the window, his eyes hard.

"Stay there," he ordered her. He pushed himself up from the table with one hand, his other hand dipping down to his blaster, but he didn't pull it from its holster.

The princess leapt to her feet, following the Corellian as he headed for the door. "You don't listen very well, do you?" he growled hopelessly at her.

"Han? What's going on?" Leia's face was taut as she looked up at him.

"Falleen. Two of 'em." He shoved his hand inside his pocket, pulled something out. "They're looking around. Looking inside places." His teeth ground in frustration as he watched out the door. "They just came out of Rungar's Leasing. Black Sun's looking for us. For you."

With one hand, Han turned his comlink back on. He grimaced at whatever he saw there. His other hand grabbed Leia's arm. "Come on, we've got to get out of here." Tugging the princess along, he started out the exit.

"Kriff!" he said again. With one sweeping motion, he turned back to their abandoned meal. He tossed payment onto the littered table, then pulled Leia out into the busy street.

A tiny part of Leia's mind, the part not considering the ramifications of this new development, or the danger they were in, smiled at the fact that Han had paid for their meal with honest credits, not the stolen chit.

####

**Luke stood guard just outside the back entrance to Marak's shop, his blaster clutched in one sweaty hand. **The boy had argued for using his lightsaber when Chewie first ordered him to watch for unfriendlies, but the Wookiee had pointed out, with only minimal sarcasm, that Luke could only engage one opponent at a time with the Jedi weapon, while a blaster could down several at once; what the blaster lacked in elegance, it more than made up for with sheer volume. With the large number of possible enemies after them, Luke had been forced to agree with his companion—right now quantity trumped quality.

Chewbacca was loading the big generators from a repulsor cart onto the speeder truck. Luke had to admit it was an impressive sight. With seemingly little effort, the big Wookiee would lift a crate and lob it into the back of the speeder. Luke's muscles ached in sympathy, just watching the procedure.

More frustrating, and much less successful, were Chewie's attempts to raise Han on the 'link. After each crate was loaded, Chewie would put the comm to his lips and snarl into it. Then he would fix the device with an angry stare, as if that would somehow elicit a response from the Corellian. So far, nothing. Luke knew that Chewbacca was worried; Luke was worried, too. It wasn't like Han or Leia to be out of communication for more than moment or two, and Chewie had been trying to raise them for at least 30 standard minutes.

Luke had a very bad feeling about the whole situation. A whole fleet of possibly disastrous occurrences flew unwelcome through Luke's imagination. The least dire of them was the very real possibility that Leia had been unable to get the money from the account her father had set up. From there Luke could imagine them being robbed or assaulted, Leia being held captive as Luke had been, Han having caused a speeder accident.

The young man huffed out a breath and bounced nervously on his toes as he looked around the alley. He was relieved to see no sign of any approaching threat as Chewie loaded the last of the generators into the speeder. The Wookiee took out his comlink to try and reach Han one more time.

"Can't we just go, Chewie?" Luke asked in frustration.

Chewbacca yowled sharply that he was just going to try the 'link one more time.

Luke paced and fidgeted as Chewie thumbed at the device. If anything had happened to Leia…

_Leia!_ Luke wondered how they both could have been so stupid. All the time Chewie had been trying to reach Han, neither of them had thought to try and contact the princess. Luke pulled his comlink from his belt and punched in Leia's code.

####

**Six missed calls from Chewie, four messages. **Han looked down at his link in disbelief as he towed the princess toward the _Falcon's_ docking bay. _What could have happened in such a short time?_ He'd only turned the kriffing thing off 30 minutes ago. Leia stumbled occasionally on the uneven pavement of Mechanic's Way, but the Corellian did his best to steady her over the worst of it. He knew her feet must be killing her by now, and for that he was sorry, but not sorry enough to slow down their progress or change their route. This was the quickest way back to ship, even if it wasn't the easiest. Therefore, it was the quickest way back to safety.

"Stop!" Leia gasped, wriggling herself free from Han's tight grasp on her arm.

Han wheeled around and fixed the princess with a look that would have cowed a woman less courageous than she. His eyes were hard as agates as he pushed Leia back into a dirty cubby filled with engine parts and tools.

"Listen, your Worship," Han began in a low, menacing growl. "We don't have time to rest. Falleen mean Black Sun, you don't—"

"No, you listen," she shot back. She poked him in the breastbone with a stiffly extended finger. "You saw one Falleen—"

"Two," Han interjected.

"Okay, two," Leia conceded. "But for all you know, they could be on Ord Mantell for some reason that has nothing to do with us!" She blew up at a tangle of hair that had come loose from her elaborate style, then brushed it back away from her face with a negligent hand.

"The odds are pretty kriffing high that it does have something to do with us." Han looked over his shoulder and out into the repair area of the spacedocks. There were plenty of beings in view. None of them were Falleen, and most looked as if they could care less what the couple was doing in a storage nook. _Thank the gods for dirty minds, _he thought.

"I thought Corellians didn't care about odds," Leia responded tartly. "All I'm saying is that we don't know if there is a problem with Black Sun or not. Use your head," she admonished him. "Take a minute to find out what Chewie wants."

Han opened his mouth to protest, then shut it again, his lips thin. He hated it when she was right. He'd been so concerned about Leia's safety that he hadn't thought to comm Chewie back—or even listen to the messages. He pulled out his 'link and keyed in return.

Almost immediately, they heard the tweetling sound of an incoming communication. But it wasn't Han's link, it was Leia's. For a minute the two looked at the device like they had forgotten its very existence; Han certainly had.

"Don't answer it," he ordered her, moving to take the 'link from her.

"Are you crazy?" Leia pulled it out of his reach and held it to her lips. "It's Luke." She keyed it on.

Almost simultaneously, Han's link demanded attention. He looked at the display. "Chewie," he said shortly.

They each turned to a different corner of the cubby to answer their summons. When both were through, they turned back to face each other. They were both white-faced and solemn.

"Black Sun," Leia confirmed.

"Bounty hunter," Han added.


	10. Chapter 10

**Supply Run**

_Chapter Nine_

Chewbacca piloted the heavily laden speeder much like he piloted the _Falcon_—very fast, and with a seemingly unending number of twists and turns—just like Han did, in other words. Luke didn't really care, so long as they got back to the freighter as quickly as possible. And alive, he amended, as the speeder lurched, then dipped dangerously to starboard as the poorly secured generators shifted under the force of a particularly tight turn around a corner. Luke clung more tightly to the hand bar in the speeder with one hand, while clutching his lightsaber in the other. As he had pointed out to Chewie, with only the smallest amount of sarcasm, in the close confines of the speeder the lightsaber was actually a better weapon than a blaster.

Luke turned away from his constant scan of beings and vehicles along the side and behind the speeder to stare at Chewie. The Wookiee had let loose with a string of Shyriiwook invective impressive both for its ferocity and for its intensity. There had to be something really bad happening to agitate the normally gentle Chewbacca to this extent.

"What is it, Chewie?" Luke pushed himself off the side of the speeder as the Wookiee turned sharply to port, squeezing the vehicle into a small service passage off the main thoroughfare.

With a howl of impotent rage, Chewie flung one hairy arm in the direction of the road on which they'd just been traveling.

The young man squinted at the area indicated as the speeder jounced through the narrow alley.

"Something's blocking the road?" Luke asked. He couldn't tell what the obstacle was in their path, Chewie had changed their course too quickly.

Chewie offered an affirmative grunt and a brief explanation.

"I don't get it," Luke confessed. "Why is that bad? If there's an accident or something up there, and the authorities have the road blocked, won't that make it harder for Black Sun to get to Leia and Han?" Leia had told Luke—and Han had told Chewie—that they were already back to the docking rings, and practically back to the ship. Once they were inside the _Millennium_ _Falcon_, they would be safe. Even if the temperamental freighter didn't always operate as expected, its heavy armor plating, anti-personnel shielding, and its very illegal collection of armaments could fend off an army. At least until Luke and Chewbacca could get there to help them.

Chewbacca's answering growl was derisive.

"Oh," Luke said sheepishly. "I didn't think about the fact that it means we won't be able to get to them as fast, either."

The Wookiee continued on, concern replacing derision in his grumbles and groans.

"Do you really think that Black Sun could arrange for an official roadblock? Don't the patrollers have to do that? Or the space dock authorities?" the boy asked. He found it hard to believe that it was possible.

Chewie's bark was short and to the point. With enough bribes, anything was possible.

Luke nodded thoughtfully as he watched out the front windscreen. He was a long way from the simplicity of moisture farming on Tatooine. Every once in a while, he missed the simplicity part.

####

"**That's it," Han announced as he palmed the Falcon's hatch shut**."No one else gets in till Luke and Chewie get back here." He pulled out his comm and checked the time on it. "They ought to be here any minute." Under normal circumstances, Han would have been pleased with the success of their mad dash back to the ship, but today nothing seemed normal. Every time things appeared to be going his way, something happened to screw them up. Somehow, this particular instance didn't feel any different. "Where's the stuff from the bank?" he asked Leia.

The princess was leaning against a bulkhead, pulling off her lovely, hated shoes. She kicked them aside as she reached inside her overdress.

"Here," she said, holding out a heavy duraweave bag.

"I'm going to put that someplace safe," Han said, reaching for the bag.

Leia snatched the bag back out of his reach. "What are you going to do with it?" she asked him.

"Hey, your Worship!" Han protested, his face a combination of anger and hurt. "You still don't trust me with your money?"

"I trust you," she responded, a trace of impatience in her voice. "I just want to know where you're going to put it." Leia propped one hand on her hip. "I think more than one of us needs to know where it is," she explained.

"Oh." He hated it when Leia seemed to think things through more clearly than he did. He especially hated the fact that it happened quite a bit. "You know the smuggling compartments?" he asked.

Leia nodded.

"Well, inside the one farthest aft is a small safe box." Han started toward the compartments. "Come on," he directed her.

Padding along in her stocking feet, Leia followed the smuggler as he strode purposefully ahead of her. She struggled to keep her long, heavy garments out of the way, grabbing bunches of the brocade out of the way with an irritated twitch of her hands.

Han had already picked up the false deckplates and dropped down into the smuggler's hole by the time the princess caught up with him. He looked upward at Leia, but instead of looking over her head, as he usually did, he found himself face to face—or rather face to foot—with Leia's stocking feet.

Han had never thought about Leia's feet before; he didn't believe he'd ever seen the princess without shoes, or boots, or something. Her feet were tiny and slender, just like her hands. A frown formed on his face as he looked more closely at them. They were also bloody. He could see red splotches across the top of both her feet where the toes met the body of the foot. There was also a dark crimson stain on one of her heels. He realized she must have been absolutely miserable as they'd hurried back to the ship.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know your feet were that bad." He awkwardly indicated the stained socks. "That must have really hurt."

Leia looked a little flustered, and hid one foot behind the other. "It's not that bad," she lied. "It happens to women all the time." She smiled self-consciously. "We wear stupid shoes on occasion." She didn't bother to add that it was almost impossible to get shoes that fit her tiny feet properly. "Show me where the safe box is," she said instead.

"Okay." Han hunched down into the compartment. His voice reverberated oddly off the smooth metal walls of the compartment. "If you follow this seam down to this rivet and press here…"

Leia bent down low to look inside the compartment, wrestling her heavy draped gown out of the way. "Where?" she asked.

"You have to bend down lower," Han advised her. "It's almost at floor level."

With a grunt of frustration, Leia crouched down as low as she could get. "I still can't see it," she said. The heavy brocade of the overgown slipped out of her grasp, and fell across Han's head. He shoved it out of the way with a quick hand, and raised one eyebrow mockingly.

"I hate these clothes," Leia grumbled. "Just hang on a minute," she said to Han. Standing, she started working on the fasteners that held the overgown in place across her breast.

Both of Han's eyebrows rose and disappeared into his hairline as he watched Leia's hands work.

One by one the clasps fell open, revealing the soft cream-colored fabric of the underdress. Compared to the heavy brocade, the fabric of the underdress was soft and filmy, its loose weave clinging lovingly to the curves of her breasts and hips.

"Uh, Leia," Han began, then stopped. His eyes moved slowly up from her feet to her face, taking in every centimeter between them with undisguised interest.

With a quick movement of hands and shoulders, the brocade overdress dropped to the floor in an ungainly heap. She stepped over the pile of heavy fabric and reappeared at the edge of the smuggling compartment wearing just the underdress. When she saw the gleam in the smuggler's eyes, her lips pursed into a tight, disapproving line.

"Captain Solo," Leia said sternly. "There's no need for you to get so excited. I have no intention of providing you with a show." The princess scowled down at him from the edge of the compartment. "I'm every bit as decently covered as I was before. We need to get this money safely stowed away. Show me the safe box," she demanded. "Show me how to get inside it."

Han swallowed a smile as Leia reached down and handed him the duraweave bag containing 20,000 in credit chits and several Adleraanian gems.

_She really has no idea, _Han thought as he took the bag and hunkered back down into the compartment. _She's so focused on getting the job done she has no idea how beautiful she is—or what she does to a man. _It was just like inside the garbage masher on the Death Star, he thought fondly, with that white gown sticking to her in the muck. He felt his heart speed up, and sternly ordered it to calm. His success was minimal.

Running his fingers down the false seam, he felt for the rivet that wasn't set as tightly as the others. He pressed inward on the rivet and twisted it carefully, one-and-a-half times counter—.

His hand slipped, turning the makeshift knob the wrong way around as Leia dropped lightly next to him in the smuggler's hole. The brush of her thigh against his as she settled herself next to him zinged with electricity. _She has no idea,_ he repeated to himself firmly.

"Can you see now?" Han asked her as he sucked in a deep breath. "Run your hand down this seam to this rivet. Then push in like this," he leaned forward to press in on the rivet. The princess leaned in to look.

If the touch of her thigh had felt like electricity, the unintentional press of her breast against his arm as she bent forward was like a bolt from a blaster. Kriff! It took all of Han's will power to keep his breathing slow and even. This time, however, he felt a reaction from the princess after her unintentional contact. A sudden intake of breath, a quick jerk back.

His lips formed a quick smile, which he immediately stifled. _Maybe, _he thought hopefully, _after this gods forsaken mission is over, they could try another meal together. And perhaps something more…_

With a quick flip of the wrist, Han opened the small safe box. Then he closed it again. "Now you try it," he directed the princess.

Blushing a little, and careful to avoid unnecessary contact, Leia slipped her hand forward and maneuvered the rivet. The small door to the safe box wouldn't budge.

"Here, press here and turn the rivet this way." Han guided Leia's hand down the seam. He could smell the shampoo in her hair, and the scent of the soap she had used. He felt his face get warm. He was both relieved and disappointed when the hidden door popped open under Leia's direction. She placed the bag inside and Han shut the door. He blew out a gusty sigh.

"Okay, your Worship. Are you convinced your stash is safe?" Han asked with a smug grin.

"Perfectly. I was sure you had any number of places to hide things that aren't meant to be found."

Even though he knew that Leia had meant this as an indictment of his—mostly—former career, Han smiled and accepted the statement as a compliment. With one swift, strong movement, the smuggler levered himself into a sitting position up on the Falcon's deck, then reached down a hand to help Leia up. He pulled the offered hand back when he heard a rhythmic banging on the ship's cargo hatch. Two, then four, then one.

"That's Chewie," Han said with a heavy exhalation as he rose to his feet. Tense muscles he hadn't been aware of loosened. "Come on," Han extended his hand to the princess again. "I need to close this up and help them load the generators." With a sharp tug, he helped Leia clamber out of the compartment. "You stay inside the ship," he directed her. His eyes ran up and down her slender figure one more time. "And you should probably change your outfit," he added with a mocking, randy grin as he dropped the deckplating back into place. "You don't want to get the kid all worked up."

With a quick wink, he headed toward the main cargo hold.

####

**Chewie's growled questions were getting repetitive, though Luke was loathe to tell him so**; he understood the concerns that were driving the Wookiee to repeat himself.

"No, I don't see any Falleen," he answered patiently. "And I don't see that droid, either," he added before Chewie could ask. Again.

The Wookiee actually snorted out a laugh, and ducked his head in sheepish embarrassment. Then he returned to the task of getting the two of them and their load of generators through the maze of the space docks. Fortunately, it seemed that spacers were more tolerant of the Chewie's erratic driving—and a lot more nimble when it came to getting out of the way—than the general populace of Ord Mantell was.

Luke continued to scan the area for any signs of imminent threat, but as they drew closer to the _Falcon's_ docking bay he began to relax. 273, 272, 271. The speeder flew by bay after bay. Luke loosened his sweaty grip on his lightsaber. 270, 269, 268. As docking bay 267 came into view, he reattached the lightsaber to his belt.

The lumbering speeder truck turned into bay 267 with a spray of gravel and scree. Luke breathed an audible sigh of relief as Chewie slowed down to a speed that could almost be considered safe. The young man's eyes darted around the docking bay. It was placidly quiet, with no sign of any danger. The Falcon's main boarding hatch was sealed tight, though it didn't appear that Han had felt it necessary to activate the anti-personnel field. A good thing, too—it would have been hard to get to the freight lift if they had to contend with being zapped by an energy field.

Chewie steered the speeder between the Falcon's two mandibles and cut the engine. The Wookiee leapt nimbly out, Luke following close behind. Chewie pounded out the prearranged code on the hatch of the forward freight lift and then stood shifting nervously from foot to foot, waiting until Han opened the hatch and dropped the freight lift. A clang, followed by a grating screech, signaled the descent of the lift.

"It took you long enough," Han chided, as he rode the lift down to the pitted tarmac.

With an indignant howl, Chewbacca summarized the carnage at Marak's shop, the difficulty of navigating the loaded speeder through Old Ord Mantell's narrow streets, and the suspicious roadblock.

The roadblock garnered the most of the Corellian's interest. "So, do you think it was Black Sun that set it up?" he asked.

With a shrug and groan, Chewie indicated that Han's guess was as good as any.

Han pulled on a pair of nerfhide work gloves. "We better do this in a hurry then," he said.

Luke moved to the back of the speeder and lifted open the hatch to the cargo area. He had just released the binder on the nearest generator when he saw a flash of green and felt a suggestion of impending doom inside his head. His heart began to pound and he had to fight the urge to run for his life. He heard Chewie low in panic and Han's muttered curse. Remembering Ben Kenobi's advice at the Death Star, Luke struggled to clear his mind and _let go!_

Time and motion slowed to one-quarter speed. Luke clearly saw the Falleen behind a stack of coolant drums far across the docking bay. The boy pulled his lightsaber off his belt as the Falleen pulled out a large and wicked looking blaster.

"Han! Chewie! Look out!" The lightsaber ignited with a snap-hiss.

Even as Luke shouted out the warning, his lightsaber came up and blocked two red blaster bolts as they seemed to float lazily toward his friends. As the bolts pounded harmlessly into the worn floor of the bay, time returned to normal. Han had his blaster out and was firing in the direction of the Falleen. His first two shots were wide. His third shot went home, hitting the Falleen squarely in the back.

In the back? Luke knew that was impossible; he turned to look at Han for confirmation. One look at his friend's face said it all. For the space of a heartbeat, Han's eyes goggled in disbelief, then they began to search for the source of that shot. Chewie clutched his bowcaster, doing the same visual scan. His eyes narrowed as he howled a virulent Shyriiwook curse. At a ninety degree angle to the Falleen stood the assassin droid, IG-88.

####

**Leia stood silent and unmoving as she listened to Han open the cargo hatch and lower the lift.** She let out the breath she was holding when she heard him harangue Chewie for taking so long to get back to the ship, then she bent down to pick up her discarded garment. Everything sounded perfectly normal. It was turning out to be a successful mission after all, even with Han Solo's dire warnings, and her own bad feelings about the trip. All they had left to do was load the generators and they could get off this pestilent planet and back to Hoth. Which really wasn't that much of an improvement, she thought with a sour smile. It was colder than… Well, colder than any other place she could think of. However, in the plus column, no one knew the base was there. Yet.

Grasping the heavy brocade overdress in both her arms, Leia went back toward the crew quarters she berthed in when she was traveling in the _Falcon_. She thought briefly about tossing the kriffing thing into the waste chute as she passed by that hatch—it was tempting—but the princess controlled her urge. No matter her personal feelings, it had taken credits to produce this gown, credits that could have been used for something else, a day's food, for instance.

Leia tossed the overdress across an empty bunk, and hitched her arms behind her shoulders to undo the fastenings imbedded in the soft cream-colored fabric of the underdress. After a minute of wiggling contortions, she felt the last restraint loosen. Freeing her arms, she slipped the garment past her breasts and hips and onto the floor. She scooped it up and tossed it onto the bunk next to the overdress. She'd better hurry, she thought, in case Luke wanted to come in. The two young rebels shared the space when they traveled with Han, always being careful to not invade one another's space. It would have made more sense to have Han bunk in here with Luke, giving her the privacy of a compartment to herself, but the princess was loathe to listen to the insults and complaints the smuggler would be sure to heap on her were she to displace him from his rightful quarters as master of this bucket of bolts. Grabbing her ship's clothes, she hurried into the small 'fresher attached to the crew quarters.

As she wriggled her legs into her khaki pants, she frowned unhappily at her baggy, threadbare panties. Looking at herself in the small, wavering mirror she took in the sight of her ill-fitting military issue brassiere, providing a sharp contrast to the elaborate make-up she still wore. Gods, she missed her own lingerie. Not only for the softness of the fine fabrics, but because it fit properly. She wondered what Han Solo would think if he saw her in this mismatched mess. Or what he would think if he saw her in something soft and silky that fit her figure.

Even in the _Falcon's_ sorry excuse for a mirror, Leia could see the color that suddenly flooded her cheeks and neck. What was wrong with her? There was absolutely no reason for Han Solo and undergarments to occur at the same time in one of her thoughts. She tugged the pants up over her hips and closed the fastenings. Reaching for the shirt, she slipped her arms in and began closing it up over her miserable excuse for a bra. _It had been a very pleasant lunch, _the princess thought. Right up until the moment Han Solo claimed to have seen the Falleen, it had been, anyway. She hadn't seen anything. Maybe Han had said that just to get out of being a civil human being?

_No. _Leia finished the last of the closures on the shirt and worked to wrestle its too long tail into her pants. Gods she hated being short, or at least hated not having clothes that fit properly. No, Han had been enjoying that meal, too, she was sure of it. He had been civil, even pleasant. And maybe she'd been imagining it, but just for a moment, Leia had felt a connection to the Corellian pilot. Something much more intimate than friendship.

From outside the ship, Leia heard a thud. She assumed that it was the first of the generators being loaded. With a mental shrug, she reached over to turn on the water in the dented sink; she wanted to get this paint off her face. Whatever she felt—or imagined she felt—about Han, she needed to set it aside. They were at war, there was no time for anything else.

Another, louder noise caught her attention. It didn't sound quite like freight being loaded. She pulled the scratchy towel down off her still damp face and listened more carefully. Now she was able to discern a high-pitched screech, followed by a ringing thud. _That was a laser blast!_

Flinging the towel away, Leia grabbed her blaster as she bolted out of her quarters.

####

**Han's eyes flicked rapidly from Chewie to Luke, and from the dead Falleen to the very functioning IG-88 droid**, all the while his overloaded brain tried to assimilate what had just happened. One of his enemies had just killed the other; you didn't see that happen too often. Too bad it wasn't a good thing. If he'd had to face one of the two, he'd much rather have dealt with a Black Sun Falleen then an IG-88 assassin droid.

Even more difficult for Han to grasp was Luke. The kid still stood there in the dim shadow of the speeder truck, the blade from his lightsaber glowing green. He'd just deflected two blaster bolts fired by a Black Sun killer, without even breaking a sweat. If Han wanted to be honest about it—and he wasn't at all sure he wanted to—the kid had even looked elegant doing it. Kriff! If there was any truth to this Force nonsense, Luke had just proved it. Han didn't think he would ever be able to live with that.

A blaster bolt landing squarely between Han's two feet brought his attention back to present. He looked down at the burnt duracrete between his boots and wondered just what kind of blaster that droid was armed with.

"Solo," IG-88 called out. The mechanical timbre of its voice sounded threatening.

"What do you want?" Han called back. It was just a delaying tactic; the pilot knew exactly what the droid wanted.

"I want you."

_No surprise there_, Han thought. "Yeah, well we can't always get what we want, now can we?"

Chewie groaned a soft admonition to his friend.

_Don't antagonize him. _Han was willing to admit that was good advice, but he figured it was little late in the game for that.

The assassin responded with another shot. A yelp from the Wookiee and the smell of singed fur had Han spinning to look at his friend.

"Chewie," he hissed. "Are you all right? Did he get you?" Han could see burnt fur on the Wookiee's shooting arm, but the shot hadn't hit flesh or bone._ Kriff, this droid was good!_

Chewie rumbled that he was fine.

"All you have to do is come with me, Solo," the droid said.

"Not happening," was Han's response as he turned back to the droid. Another shot from IG-88's blaster landed between his feet. Han swallowed convulsively. To his other side, he could see Luke creeping toward the assassin, his lightsaber still clutched in his hand. Han shook his head, an infinitesimally small movement he hoped the kid could see, and the droid could not.

The next shot neatly clipped Luke's lightsaber, sending it spinning across the tarmac. Luke jerked back in shock. So much for not being seen.

"Solo. Jabba the Hutt wants you. I want Jabba the Hutt's money."

_What did a droid _do_ with money?_ Han wondered wildly. Another shot wanged the duracrete at his feet. But IG88 was manumitted, he conceded, though rogue was a better descriptor for the droid. _What did he do with credits—anything he wanted, _Han supposed.

"Come with me," the droid continued. "Don't make me kill the Wookiee and the boy." Then it waved an arm at the Falcon's cockpit.

Han looked over his shoulder to see Leia's face through the transparasteel. The look on her face, a combination of anger and anxiety, was one Han knew all too well.

"I won't kill her," IG-88 reassured Han. "She's more valuable than the others. Maybe I'll give her to Black Sun," the droid continued. "Or maybe I'll give her to the Emperor. It depends on who pays better."

Han continued to stare at Leia. _Stay there, princess _he willed at her. _Stay there! _His gut twisted when he saw her raise her blaster. _Kriff, she's going to come out here. She's gonna get killed!_

Sucking in a deep breath, Han tensed his muscles and raised his own blaster. He knew that he wouldn't survive a head-on charge against IG-88, but maybe Chewie and Luke could get Leia to safety if he were dead. Then all the damn droid would have to do would be to pick up his bloody carcass and tote it back to Jabba.

In a huge burst of speed, Han surged forward, firing shot after shot at IG-88. He got maybe 20 meters away from the ship before a bright flash blinded him. He felt a sharp pain in his temple, then the whole universe went black.

.


	11. Chapter 11

_This took much, much, longer than I ever dreamed it would. However, finally, there is a new chapter. And, be assured, that I never leave a story incomplete. I hope you enjoy._

**Supply Run**

_ChapterTen_

Skidding to a stop at the _Falcon's_ bulkhead hatch, Leia punched in the unlock code with frantic fingers. One look out the cockpit canopy had told the princess everything she needed to know about the source of the laser blasts, and the situation outside the ship in the docking bay.

They were in serious trouble.

The bounty-hunter droid, IG-88, had trapped Luke and Chewbacca behind the speeder-truck loaded with the generators bound for Echo Base. He had also succeeded in knocking Luke's lightsaber—which had proved a formidable weapon—out of his and hand across the tarmac.

And Han…

The sight of Han's crumpled, motionless form filled Leia's thoughts as she waited for the hatch to raise. That simple function seemed to be taking hours instead of seconds, giving the princess ample time to consider what had just happened.

_What in the hells had he been thinking?_

Only a fool would be stupid enough to blindly charge an IG-88 droid, and Han Solo was no fool. This particular droid was a bounty-hunter, though assassin might be a more appropriate term: one of five self-actualized droids manufactured. They were all malicious killers, banned even by the Empire. This particular killer was after Han.

Which still didn't explain what had possessed him to attack where he didn't stand a chance to win. Han was often reckless—wantonly so—but never when it meant obvious harm to himself. Leia shifted from foot to foot as the hatch seemed to inch upward. Han had seen her in the cockpit, Leia was certain of that—he had looked straight at her. She felt an angry flush surge up her face. He'd wanted her to stay inside the _Falcon_; the princess had realized that as soon as their eyes met. But that was no reason for the Corellian to behave with such brazen stupidity. Besides, he knew very well that she wasn't one to stay tucked safely away while others took the risks.

Leia lunged down the boarding ramp when the hatch finally reached the halfway point. It was only when her feet touched the rough surface of the landing pit, and sharp pain radiated upward, that she realized she'd never put her boots back on. Well, it was too late for that now. Ignoring the discomfort, the princess dashed around the starboard landing strut, taking cover behind the lowered freight lift. Her eyes quickly scanned the scene in front of her.

Luke and Chewie were crouched behind the laden speeder truck; every time one of them made a move, a carefully placed shot from IG-88's blaster kept them pinned where they were. Beyond them, in the middle of the bay, Han remained where he'd fallen—his arms and legs splayed at awkward, impossible angles that told Leia he wasn't trying to fool IG-88. No one would assume that painful position by choice. Her pulse pounded loudly in her ears as she stared at the Corellian. He hadn't moved, not a finger, not a hair. Leia had seen the shot hit his head, but it must have been a graze, she reasoned, anything more direct would have blasted half his face off. Her stomach heaved at that thought, and she swallowed down the sour taste of aven pie that had risen into her throat. Just an hour before, she and Han had been relaxed, happy, almost romantic. Now he might be dead.

_No! Han wasn't dead. _Leia didn't know how she knew, but as certainly as she knew her own name, she was sure of that fact—and that certainty cleared her head. She needed to get to him. Tightening her grip on her blaster, the princess considered her next move.

####

**Chewie's howl of rage and anguish reverberated through the docking bay**. Luke swore he saw a few of the coolant barrels quake from the sheer power of the Wookiee's roar. He could feel Chewie's need to get to his fallen friend, not through any sense of the Force, but through the desperation that vibrated from every nerve in Chewbacca's body. Luke suspected every being in the docking ring could feel it. Yet, somehow, the horror and despair Luke should be feeling at the sight of Han's injury—or quite possibly his friend's death—was inexplicably absent. Instead he felt oddly detached, aware of a cool calmness and steadiness within himself that he'd never experienced before.

The blond man scanned the docking bay. IG-88 had withdrawn into the shadows on the edges of the pit, the droid's odd finish keeping the light from reflecting off of it. Luke couldn't see it, but he knew the droid was out there. It was no longer firing; it was probably waiting for one of them to move out of the shelter of the speeder. Then, all it had to do was dash in and retrieve Han's unmoving body—after it killed Luke and Chewbacca. And Leia…

Luke was not going to let any of that happen.

"Chewie, don't go out there yet," Luke said in a low, firm voice, as he sensed the Wookiee's hands readying his bowcaster. "We won't help Han any by getting ourselves killed. I've got a plan." Obi-Wan had told him that the Force had a strong influence on the weak minded. Not for one moment would the young man have called the Wookiee weak-minded, but whether it was the Force, or just plain common sense, Chewie grudgingly accepted the suggestion and stayed where he was, though he still trembled with the need to get to his friend. He moaned a single, terse question to Luke.

"I don't know how I know," Luke answered honestly, "but, trust me, Han isn't dead."

Chewie's blue eyes first widened, then narrowed; his furry eyebrows crinkled in thought. Then he turned to the younger man and nodded once, telling Luke that he indeed trusted him.

Luke swallowed, then returned the nod. It was up to him now, and the Force.

All he had to do was get his lightsaber back. Luke could see it lying on the tarmac a few meters away, plainly visible to himself; he hoped the droid couldn't see it. He'd done this before—once before—earlier that day in the carnage of Marak's workshop. He would do it again. Clearing his mind, he shut his eyes and stretched out his hand.

Through the Force, he could see the lightsaber. He could see the hilt move feebly, like a newly hatched sand worm groping blindly for food. Luke refocused his efforts, picturing the weapon flying off the ground and into his hand. He could hear it, as the lightsaber scraped on the rough floor of the landing bay. He almost had it…

####

**The first conscious thought that occurred to Han was that he was pretty sure he was still alive. **This came as a surprise to him, albeit a pleasant one. Of course, it was always possible he was mistaken, but he was pretty sure that dead people wouldn't be aware of the bite of gravel digging into their cheeks and lips like he was, nor would they experience the fiery pain he was feeling from the wound in his temple. Of course, the only way he could be sure would be try and get up. Besides, lying there with his face in the dirt was really starting to irritate him. Painstakingly, Han pulled his out flung right arm back underneath his chest, and lifted his head a few centimeters off the tarmac. White hot pain seared through his skull, and flashing lights danced behind his closed eyelids. _Maybe not such a good idea after all, _Han thought, as the searing heat of a laser blast landed a bare centimeter from him—so close he swore he could smell singed hair—before he fell back into the oblivion of unconsciousness.

####

**Leia felt a hitch in her throat, even as she adjusted her grip on her blaster.** She stared at Han, her eyes narrowed in concentration. Had his hand moved, just a fraction? _Yes!_ As she continued watching, she saw his right arm move in toward his body.

With a gusty whoosh, she expelled the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. _She'd known he wasn't dead; she'd known it_. All at once Leia's knees went wobbly, and she grabbed for the edge of the freight lift. She inhaled deeply to steady herself; now was not the time to go soft. _What is wrong with me anyway? _Her eyes traveled over to Luke and Chewie. If she could get their attention, maybe they could create a big enough distraction that one of them—it would need to be Chewie, Leia realized—would be able to get Han out of the line of fire. Reaching down, she picked up a small stone, ready to toss it in their direction.

The ringing explosion from a laser blast sent the startled princess ducking back down behind the landing strut. She watched as Han's raised head, almost hidden by the smoke from the shot, fell back down to the ground. Her heart thudded while she waited for the smoke to clear. Once again, the Corellian was still as a corpse.

"Han!"

Before she even realized it, Leia had called out. They couldn't wait; they had to get Han out of there before IG-88 murdered him where he lay. With a quick, hopeful look toward her companions, she fired several shots in the direction of the droid before she ran straight toward Han.

####

"**Han!" Leia's sharp cry echoed off the stone walls of the docking bay**. The lightsaber fell still.

Luke's eyes flew open, his concentration broken, as Leia cried out. She came pelting around the starboard landing strut, intent on reaching the injured Corellian.

"Leia, no!" Luke called to her, reaching out for her arm as she scrambled by him. He almost caught her, but she twisted away from his grasp and out in front of the truck. Chewie added his own howled supplication to Luke's, but the princess was so focused on Han that she didn't appear to hear either of them. Turning her head, Leia's eyes met Luke's. _Leia stay here! _Luke willed at her. Instead, the princess fired two shots toward the droid's hiding place before darting out from behind the speeder truck and crossing the open tarmac.

_Blast it! _Luke moaned to himself.

####

**She felt Luke's hand brush against her sleeve as she ran past the truck and out into the open, and she heard Chewie's howl for her to stop.** They were probably both right, Leia thought, crouching down low as she ran, but there wasn't time for that now. Han had been a fool to rush out there by himself, and now she was equally a fool to run after him.

Red blaster bolts flared around her as she raced toward Han, but she continued on unscathed. Leia knew that this particular droid was too accurate to actually be missing her, therefore he wasn't trying to hit her. He was a bounty hunter, after all, and she was certain that Princess Leia Organa was worth more to the Empire alive, rather than dead. She didn't give much thought to what would happen to her if IG-88 actually caught her; right now she was just grateful for the droid's greed, if it gave her the chance to get Han out of there.

Time was once again playing tricks on her; seconds had inflated into hours. Finally she reached Han, and dropped down onto her knees next to him. With a gentle hand, she pulled the singed hair back from the wound on his temple. It looked awful, with red blistery skin, and a trickle of blood. It was indeed only a graze, but a bad one. It must hurt like the hells, and it had probably rattled around whatever the idiot used for brains, as well. Leia felt an unexpected smile quirk her lips. _Han Solo—always acting first, thinking later. _She ran her hand fondly down his cheek, part thank you, part—

Another blaster bolt raised a spray of dirt centimeters away from them. Her hand dropped down and she shook his shoulder sharply—he needed to wake up now.

"Come on, Flyboy!"

####

**The Wookiee growled low in his throat; partly from anxiety, but mostly from frustration**. It was bad enough that Han had run out into the middle of the docking bay, with no cover whatsoever, like a cub who didn't know any better; now the little princess was out there too. Leia could be as ferocious as a rancor—a quality Chewie greatly admired in her—but there was no way she could get Han out of there by herself. The basic laws of physics still applied.

IG-88 fired yet another shot that barely missed the couple huddled on the tarmac. Baring his teeth, Chewbacca fired at the droid still hidden in relative safety among the barrels of coolant. He missed, and IG-88 turned his blaster in the direction of the speeder-truck. Chewie pulled his head down with a snarl. He'd managed to draw the droid's shots away from Han and Leia, but that would work only as long as he managed to stay alive himself.

"Chewie," Luke whispered in his direction. "I never expected Leia would run out there like that."

Chewbacca resisted the urge to throw his hands up in the air and howl. He was astounded at how impossibly blind humans could be at times. The only thing that had surprised him about the current circumstances was how long it had taken Leia to get to Han. Couldn't Luke see that those two were completely besotted with one another? The whole situation was enough to make a being even as patient as a Wookiee lose his temper. If only they would all get around to admitting it to themselves—and especially to each other.

Well, there wasn't time for that now. Chewie stuck his head around the truck and fired again at the droid. This time, however, IG-88 fired another shot that just missed Han and Leia. Kriff! Something needed to be done, the Wookiee saw, and quickly. There was no time for the would-be Jedi to call on the Force again.

####

**The next time Han came to, he wasn't as certain that he was alive as he'd been the last time. ** He was pretty sure real life—at least his real life—didn't include Leia's cool fingers brushing along his cheek. Eyes still closed, he turned his head into the caress. If he was dead, he figured he might as well enjoy it.

A blaster bolt zinged by; he could feel the heat on his cheek as it hit the duracrete next to his head. It sent a spattering of hot dust across his face and made his ears ring. His eyes flew open. Okay, not dead. IG-88 was playing with him—taunting him. Obviously the droid wanted to take him back to Jabba alive, otherwise Han knew he'd be dead by now. And Leia…

"Come on, Flyboy!"

Leia's face hovered just above his own, her dark eyes anxious. And maybe something more? _It's probably the head injury, Solo, _he reminded lines of her face seemed to waver a little; he was pretty sure that was the head injury too. Still, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he wanted her to know it.

"Leia," he began. His voice sounded thin and raspy, not exactly the way he wanted to start. He tried to raise himself up, but Leia gently pushed him back down.

"Just take it easy for a minute," she told him. Her voice didn't sound too steady either. "You're going to have to be able to get up and run," she added in a firmer tone, as she sent a shot flying toward the edge of the docking bay.

The return shot flew by Leia, so close it would have hit her if she hadn't been bending toward him at just that moment. _They had to get out of here, _Han silently heart pounding with the effort, Han raised himself to a sitting position—and was immediately overcome by searing pain in his skull. His stomach churned with nausea. Closing his eyes and breathing in through his nose, he swallowed the sickness back down again.

The sounds of blaster fire: from Leia, from Chewbacca's bowcaster, and from whatever weapon that kriffing bounty-hunter droid was using, reminded Han what a tenuous position they were in. _Leia was in deadly danger because of him. _He shook his head, hoping the pain would help clear the fog that still swirled annoyingly through his brain. The next shot from IG-88, landing centimeters from his hand, had a better effect.

"Solo, give yourself up, or I'll kill your friends." IG-88 punctuated his demand with another near miss.

"You're going to kill 'em anyway," Han called back. "So why should I bother?" He'd hoped to sound strong and defiant, but his voice came out thin and weak to his own ears. _Just kriffing terrific_.

"It's you I want, Solo." A blaster shot hit the ground by the hand Leia was using to balance herself next to Han. She jerked the member back, tottering a little before regaining her balance. "I'll let them go," IG-88 continued, "if you just come along with me. You're worth more if I deliver you to Jabba alive. He'd like to play with you a little—before he executes you."

Han could envision a sneer on the droid's face; if droids could sneer, that is. "You'll let them all go?" he called out.

"Yes," was the response.

"Han, don't be an idiot," Leia hissed at him. "He doesn't mean it."

Han ignored her. "Even the princess?" he asked. Especially the princess.

A sigh was audible in the electronic voice. "Yes, even the princess. She's worth a lot, but you're worth more." The sneer returned. "Besides, all I have to do is tell the Empire where I saw her last. I'm sure Lord Vader will be able to find her. There's probably a finder's fee in it for me."

"Why, you…" Han began, his teeth bared in a fair imitation of his co-pilot. He struggled to haul himself to his feet, his efforts hampered by Leia's insistent tug on his arm. They both stood, Han swaying like a drunken Gammorean.

"Han, don't you dare give yourself up!" Leia threatened. "I—" Her voice cut off with a choking sound.

Adrenaline had cleared his head of all but a residual muzziness. Now Han turned away from the threat of imminent death at the blaster of IG-88 to look down at the princess. He'd heard something in that strangled-off syllable; or he'd thought he'd heard something. Or maybe he just hoped he'd heard something.

"You, what?" His hazel eyes met her dark brown ones. They held each other's stares for what felt like an eternity. Leia looked away first.

"The Alliance doesn't give in to terrorists," she said primly, not willing to meet his eyes.

"Uh, your Worship…"

Another blaster bolt from the assassin droid burnt the ground between them.

"Kiss the princess goodbye and come along, Solo."

Han focused on the small, pale, face so close to him. For a moment nothing—not IG-88, not the fiery throb of the injury to his head, nor the queasiness in his gut, claimed any of his attention. He was tempted to do as the droid had suggested, and kiss those enticingly parted lips. But he wouldn't give the bounty hunter the final satisfaction of being right about how he felt. Instead, he pulled his arm free of Leia's grasp and turned toward the droid.

He managed only one step before a barrage of blaster fire from behind the speeder-truck sent him diving to the tarmac, grabbing for his forgotten blaster instead.

####

**Luke fingered his blaster, tightening his grip on the weapon in his sweaty palm.** Next to him, Chewbacca scanned the far edge of the landing bay, narrowing his eyes as he kept watch on IG-88. The droid still remained entrenched behind barrels of coolant, but now, at least, they had a clue as to where it was lurking. Luke couldn't blame the Wookiee for taking over the rescue attempt—Luke hadn't even been able to get his lightsaber back, much less rescue anyone—no matter how much he'd wanted to. However, watching Han struggle to rise, and Leia struggling to protect him, while both were under the fire of the bounty hunter, Luke understood the necessity of following Chewie's lead.

The problem was that while Luke could feel the stirrings of the Force, he had only minimal control over its potential. He rubbed his free hand wearily across his face. No, if he were to be honest, he had absolutely no control over the Force. His mouth pulled downward. His performances earlier that day had been nothing but luck. If only he'd had a little more time with Ben Kenobi—more time to learn from him. But, as Uncle Owen had often said, _if wishes were raindrops…_

Chewbacca shifted toward the front of the speeder-truck, folding himself almost in half to keep out of sight, while Luke moved toward the rear. After a ten-count, Luke was supposed to lay down cover fire while Chewbacca went to aid Han and Leia. Luke wasn't at all sure that any of them would survive the attempt, but it was the only possible option they had. At least the Wookiee was big enough he could carry one, possibly both, of their stranded companions to the safety of the _Falcon_—unless he died in the attempt.

Luke sighted on the coolant barrels as sensed the tensing of Chewie's muscles. The Wookiee grunted as he began his countdown. _Ten, nine—_Lukeinhaled—_eight, seven—._

Chewie froze as Han began negotiating with IG-88. He muttered an obscenity in Shyriiwook as he listened.

Han was going to turn himself in to save their lives, no wonder Chewie was swearing. Luke almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Almost. Except that even though the Corellian had an ego the size of a small planet, Luke knew that he would never find a truer friend. And Luke wasn't going to let that friend go without a fight.

"Chewie, we can't just let Han—" he began. The Wookiee held up his hand and bared his teeth. Luke stopped.

Luke watched, dumbfounded, as Han and Leia stood in the middle of the docking bay, staring at one another. What were they _doing?_

As IG-88 took his shot at the couple, Chewie roared a war cry and pelted around from the front the truck, firing as fast as he could at the droid.

Luke fired as he ran around from behind. _I guess we're going to go rescue Han and Leia now._

####

**Leia was so focused on Han that at first she had no idea where the laser blasts were coming from**. It was only as she flattened herself on the ground that she realized it was Luke and Chewie who were firing. The long awaited diversion had begun.

Out in the middle of the docking bay, there was no place for either herself or Han take cover; the only thing keeping them from being killed where they lay was the volume of fire being directed at the droid—even he couldn't successfully counter all the shots blazing toward him. Leia fired shot after shot, praying her blaster would stay charged. She aimed at IG-88, but never hit him. Han was firing as well, but half of his shots seemed to go wild. Leia knew he was an expert shot, but injured as he was, he wasn't good enough to bring down the droid.

A war whoop from Chewie sounded close behind her. She craned her neck around to see the Wookiee run in behind Han, grab him by the arm and yank him to his feet. He howled at her to _get up and run_ as he half-guided, half-carried his injured friend toward the _Falcon_. _That was a really good idea. _She got to her feet in one awkward, hurried movement, wobbling a little. When a hand grabbed her arm, she aimed her blaster at its owner, pulling her finger away from the trigger only at the last second, when she realized the hand belonged to Luke Skywalker.

"Leia, we need to run!" he yelled in her ear. _More good advice._

They moved as fast as they could, Leia ignoring the hard scrabble digging into her stocking feet. As they drew close to the speeder-truck, she saw that Chewie had shoved Han onto the freight lift, where the pilot clung dizzily onto a support rod. The Wookiee waved frantically at them to hurry. Luke paused long enough to scoop up his lost lightsaber, and caught the tail-end of a blaster bolt in his arm as he did so. He cried out in pain but kept running, shoving himself and Leia onto the lift. Chewie had already started it moving up into the ship.

As they rose into the forward cargo hold, Leia caught one last glimpse of IG-88 firing away. A cold fury gripped her. That one droid had done too much damage to people she cared about. She raised her blaster and took one final shot—aiming not at the droid, but at the green puddle of coolant that surrounded him. It ignited with a satisfying whoosh as the lift settled into the _Falcon_.


	12. Chapter 12

_Yes, a new chapter! Really! I had no intention of taking this long to update, but my real life has attacked with a vengeance in 2016, absolutely demanding my attention. So, let me promise, once again, that I will finish this story. Thank you all for reading...and your patience._

**Supply Run**

_Chapter 11_

Tempers were short as the freight lift settled into its cradle in the _Millennium Falcon's_ forward hold. Chewie still held Han by the arms, both to keep him from running straight for the pilot's station—and to keep the injured Corellian from falling face-first into the deck-plating. The Wookiee eyed the three humans surrounding him with the faintest hint of amusement in his blue eyes, before he began bellowing orders.

"I'm fine, you big furball," Han argued, as he heard the first of the Chewie's commands—sending Han to the medbay and Luke to the cockpit. "I can fly my own ship!"

Chewbacca abruptly let go of his friend's arms, leaving Han to clutch at a bulkhead doorjamb to keep from tumbling to his knees. His hazel eyes stood out in stark contrast to his white face, as did the drying trickle of blood which wandered crazily down his right cheek. "You don't need the kid," he objected through tightly clenched teeth. "You know you can fly this crate yourself."

"Luke is hurt, too," Leia pointed out to Chewie at the same time. "I should come up and help you with the lift-off."

"Oh, no, your Worship," Han began, irritation warring with the fatigue in his voice. "I sure don't want you—"

"Look, I'm fine!" Luke interjected. "It hardly burned through my shirt." He held up his forearm, displaying singed fabric and an angry red welt on his fair skin.

Chewbacca whuffed something under his breath as he took Han by the arm again, guiding him as they headed through the access corridor toward the main hold and lounge area.

"What did he say?" Leia demanded as she followed behind the Wookiee.

"You don't want to know," Han assured her. "It's not suitable for royal ears."

Leia glared at the Corellian, then her eyes narrowed; the uncharacteristic weakness she could hear in Han's voice worried her.

At that instance, a ringing thud shook the ship. Apparently IG-88 had worked past the wall of fire Leia had created, and was determined to stop the _Falcon_ before they could make good their escape.

"He's shooting at my ship!" Han struggled to free himself from Chewie's iron grip, and failed miserably. "I need to—"

The Wookiee stopped dead in his tracks, Luke and Leia stumbling to a halt behind him. The amused spark in his blue eyes had hardened to an angry glint, and he roared ferociously. It was obvious he'd reached the end of his patience with his human companions.

"Okay, you're in charge right now," Leia agreed with a small, conciliatory smile aimed at the angry Wookiee towering above them. "What do you want us to do?" she asked in a tactful voice.

Chewie glared at the three humans, taking in big gulps of air as he calmed his temper. Then, in a series of carefully modulated barks, warbles, and groans, he told each of them exactly what their tasks were to be.

A blaster shot zinged against the Falcon's sealed main hatch; another rattled the sensor dish on the ship's topside.

Chewie's eyes rolled toward the ceiling above him as still more shots struck the ship. He neatly passed off Han's unsteady form to Leia as he barked out one final order: _hurry_.

No one argued this time. Six standard minutes and thirty-eight standard seconds later, the _Millennium_ _Falcon_ soared into the sky, leaving Ord Mantell behind it.

####

Luke scratched at the pain patch he'd hastily applied to his arm next to the blaster burn. The medication had done its job, and the burn no longer hurt, but now the patch itched. He was seated in Han's place, even though Chewie was only willing to allow him some simple co-piloting tasks. This seating arrangement was just simpler for them both, since the Wookiee couldn't fly the ship comfortably from the pilot's position, and Luke could only reach half the controls from Chewie's oversized seat.

Chewbacca grunted, and indicated the receding planet with a tilt of his massive head.

"I'm keeping a close watch, Chewie," Luke assured the Wookiee. "I haven't seen anyone trying to come after us." The young man sputtered out a laugh. "We left such a mess in the docking bay, I'm not sure they'll even figure out we're gone."

Chewie honked a laugh of his own, as he deftly punched the coordinates for the Hoth system into the navicomputer with one hand. His other hand held the yoke as he guided the _Falcon_ out of Ord Mantell's gravity well and into the relative safety of deep space.

The _Falcon's_ precipitous—and highly illegal—exit from the docking ring had left a fair amount of mayhem in its wake. Luke smiled as he considered the rapid series of events that had occurred over the last few minutes. He couldn't help but take a certain perverse pride in his own contribution to the damage below.

And in the midst of the chaos and catastrophe, Chewbacca had come through for them all.

Before their departure, while Luke had been bringing up the sublights from cold to standby, Chewie had announced that after everything they'd gone through to get them, he was not about to leave their newly acquired generators behind. He would load them, he had informed Luke, while the young man did the rest of the preflight.

"You're going to get killed!" Luke had objected. "I don't think that droid is shooting to miss now. He's really mad," he added, rather unnecessarily.

The Wookiee had merely yowled back an equally unnecessary instruction as he headed toward the forward freight lift: _figure something out._

_Okay, figure something out, _Luke thought, his mind empty of brilliant ideas, or any other kind of idea, for that matter. _Terrific. _

As Luke had begun the preflight systems check—and some of those systems seemed awfully iffy to him—he'd also been watching out the cockpit canopy. It was only the shelter of the abandoned speeder truck, and the Wookiee's own herculean efforts to get the generators on-board as quickly as possible, that was keeping Chewie from being blasted to hairy bits. But the shots were coming closer to him with each new volley; it wouldn't be long until one found its mark. _Figure something out, _Luke ordered his uncooperative he'd remembered the newly installed belly gun that Han had tested only two days earlier in the hangar back on Hoth. _Had it really only been two days ago?_ Luke shook his head in disbelief as he quickly thumbed the controls to on, and then laid down a sweeping blast in the direction of IG-88. When he heard the thump of the lift settling back into its cradle, the young man brought the sublights up from stand-by to full—so that when Chewie finally threw himself into his seat, the ship was ready. The Wookiee pulled back on the throttles and the _Falcon_ had blasted free, leaving fire and bounty hunters in its ion wash.

Now that they were safely away, Luke flicked a few switches, and checked the corresponding readouts. He looked over at Chewie. "I think we're far enough out of the gravity well now," he commented. "And it doesn't look like anyone followed us. We're ready for lightspeed," he ventured. "That is if you agree," he'd added quickly, catching the proprietary glimmer in the pilot's sharp blue eyes.

Chewbacca nodded. His hirsute hand reached over to the hyperdrive control rods and pulled them back. The _Millennium Falcon_ emitted a noise that sounded very much like a moan—and nothing happened.

"Chewie?" Luke asked, a hard knot forming in his stomach. If they couldn't go to lightspeed, they had, at best, a several month's journey back to Echo Base if they avoided Imperial space. At worst—Luke swallowed uncomfortably as he considered—at worst they would be blasted to space dust by an Imperial ship. The _Falcon_ was well-known to the Empire; it was only the ship's speed, and Han's uncanny ability to get out of a tight situation in a hurry, that had kept them alive for as long as it had. Right now they had neither.

Chewie's brows drew together in consternation as he studied the control board. Occasionally he'd tap a dial or flick a switch, with no success. Finally, he took one huge paw and smacked the side of the console. With a smug smile—the Wookiee's toothy version of the smart grin that Han so often used—he pulled back on the controls once again. This time the stars outside the ship melted into a very welcome set of blurred streaks as the _Millennium Falcon_ made the transition to hyperspace.

####

Leia rummaged through the _Falcon's_ medbay, listening uneasily to the continuing sounds of battle outside the ship, and to the whine of the ship's engines coming up. Bundling sterile wipes, bacta ointment, pain patches, and concussion meds into her arms, she breathed a sigh of relief as she heard the sublights kick-in to full. Hastily scrambling to find a handhold, she steadied herself as the _Falcon_ lifted out of the bay and into the sky.

Han had flatly refused to go to the ship's small medbay for any sort of treatment, instead glowering defiantly as he seated himself in the lounge. The princess had bristled in response and considered telling him what a complete gundark he was being, but then thought better of it. She had learned, in her years with the Alliance, that it was wisest to choose which battles to fight, and which to concede—and she knew this particular battle was one she wasn't going to win. However, when she returned to the hold to find Han slumped forward behind the dejarik table, his head cradled in his arms, she reconsidered taking up the fight.

"Han," she called to him, careful to keep her voice brisk, so as not reveal the spike of panic his condition was causing her. When he didn't respond, that spike jounced a little higher.

"Han!" Leia repeated, this time with a little more force. Relief swept over her as he raised his head and eyed her warily. Her own eyes scanned his face. He must be feeling awful, she realized, but at least he was alert—and his pupils were equal and reactive. She was hopeful that the concussion he was obviously suffering from was minor, though it still needed to be dealt with. With that in mind, she plunked down a packet of concussion tabs next to his elbow.

"You need to take these," the princess informed him.

"What are they?" Han asked, eying the package.

"It's for the concussion," Leia explained. "They'll help your head," she continued, when he just stared at the medication.

Han straightened in his seat and met Leia's gaze head on, only squinting a little in his discomfort. "I'm fine," he declared evenly. "There's nothing wrong with my head."

At that moment, the _Millennium Falcon_ shifted from realspace to hyperspace, and Han's face went from pallid white to sickly grey. The skin around his mouth tightened perceptibly, and even his lips lost their color. He swallowed down obvious sickness as he turned his head away.

Leia watched the Corellian with sympathy, even while fervently hoping he didn't toss up his lunch on the game table. His reaction was mute testimony to how rotten he must be feeling. Only the greenest of hyperspace travelers felt the shift from sublight to faster-than-light, while a still smaller number became sick from the transition. For the uncountable number times Han had piloted through hyperspace, he shouldn't even be aware of the change.

"I'll get you some water for those pills," was all she said.

By the time she returned, the packet lay empty on the table. Obviously Han had dry-swallowed the tablets. _He is the most stubborn, perverse, childish, laser-brained… _Leia did a quick five-count in her head, tamping down her irritation. At least he'd taken the kriffing tabs_. _Already, he was starting to look less miserable, and more like himself. _Choose the battles you can win, Leia._

Without a word, the princess set the water down next to him. She knew if she told him to drink it he'd refuse, and she also knew that he'd feel better if he drank it. _Stupid gundark_.

By the time Leia finished wiping the blood off his face, cleaning the blaster injury on his temple and slathering it with bacta ointment, Han was both surly and exhausted—as was Leia. He'd been uncooperative and obstructive with her ministrations, just like a peevish child, though the princess had noted that by the time the she had completed her task, there were beads of sweat on his upper lip. He was still suffering from the head injury, Leia knew, and he should rest. She didn't bother to tell him so, however, since she knew he would only argue the point. Whatever the organic matter was that was housed inside that thick skull of his, it obviously wasn't brain cells.

However, as she gathered up the remains of the medical supplies, she offered one last—and almost certainly hopeless—suggestion.

"You know, head injuries, even to a head as hard as yours," Leia began, "really should be looked at." She fixed him with a no nonsense stare. "You need to let Two-Onebee check you out when we get back to the base."

"I'm fine," Han snarled. "I don't need to see anybody." Even in his weakened condition, he managed a successful sneer as he glared at her. "And I don't need you ordering me around."

He was sounding better, Leia thought as she glared back, and she might actually have believed his declaration of health if it weren't for the drawn look on his face.

Leia was surprised as she experienced a sudden heat boiling up inside her—she felt like a concussion grenade, ready to blow. She couldn't stand any of this anymore. The trip to the bank that had brought back such painful, bittersweet memories of her family, followed by the aborted lunch with Han that had seemed to hold such promise. Then there was his unbelievable behavior with IG-88, followed by the startling, breathtaking fear she'd experienced when she thought he was dead. She slammed the armload of supplies back down, astonished by her own ferocity. Bracing her hands on the table, the princess leaned forward until her face was level with his.

"What in the hells is wrong with you?" she snarled at him. Her face was inches from his.

Han actually pulled back from the angry princess before he seemed to recollect himself.

"What are you talking about? Nothing's wrong with me." He leaned forward again. "I keep saying that, why in the hells won't you believe me?" he growled.

"Nothing's wrong with you?" Leia countered in disbelief. She straightened again and paced once around the lounge. "Then why did you go charging off after that kriffing droid?"

Returning to face Han, Leia saw that his hazel eyes were hard with anger; the specks of gold in them glittered like crystals in fleckstone. It made his face unnervingly handsome.

"You could have been killed, you stupid nerf-herder," Leia continued, then paused and drew a shaky breath. Her tremor was pure rage, she assured herself. She believed that, too, right until the next statement leapt unchecked past her lips. "I was afraid you were dead," she choked out.

Leia would happily have bitten her tongue in two if she could take those six words back. She watched with mounting horror as the anger in Han's face morphed into smug satisfaction. The glitter in his eyes went from angry to taunting.

"Sweetheart," he purred, "I didn't know you cared."

Now the princess _was_ shaking from rage—at Han—and at herself. Why had those words spilled out of her mouth? How could she work around her blunder? For one awful moment, Leia's mind was a confused blank: _Did she care for him?_

"You risked everything we accomplished on Ord Mantell; you undermined the entire mission. For what?" Yes, this was good, Leia thought as she scrambled for a reasonable response, one that didn't include affection for the vexatious man. It was even true. "For some reckless, macho idea that you're invincible?" Crossing her arms across her belly, the princess turned her back to the smuggler. Her anger fizzed now, like the switch on a thermal detonator.

"That's not it, and you know it." Han rose from the holotable, bracing two fingers on its surface to steady himself. His color was high with indignation, and his brows lowering, but his voice was no longer taunting, and there was the faintest hint of vulnerability behind the sparks that seemed to shoot from his hazel eyes.

Leia felt her heart thudding in her chest, and willed it to slow. "I don't know what you're talking about," she responded, making her tone crisp, indifferent.

"Yes, you do," Han countered stubbornly, slipping around the table to stand in front of her. "You thought I was dead and it bothered you."

Bothered might be the biggest understatement Leia had heard in a long time, not that she would admit it. "Like I said, you undermined—"

"Then what were you doing out there without your boots on?"

"What?" Leia was honestly confused. Han waved one careless hand in the direction of the princess's feet, then crossed his arms across his chest. He leaned back against the bulkhead, an insufferable smile plastered crookedly across his face.

Leia looked down, and for the first time since Han had run out after IG-88, she became aware that she was in her stocking feet; she stared at her tattered, bloodstained socks in disbelief. Now she understood Chewie's muttered comment about leaving footprints, she could see the bloody smudges on the deck plates. Gods.

"I, uh," the princess began, then stopped. Leia swallowed with difficulty. For the space of a heartbeat, she wanted to say that she did care what happened to him; that she cared _for_ him. But one look at that self-satisfied grin and she was hard pressed not to tell him that she hated him.

In the end, Leia said nothing at all. With quick, angry motions she gathered the first aid supplies back into her arms. Then, turning her back once more on the still smiling pilot she moved, in a fast, stiff-backed march, in the direction of the crew quarters.

"Hey, your Worship," Han called after her. Leia ignored him.

"Leia!"

Leia punched in the code to open the door to her quarters. She stepped briskly inside as it whooshed open without looking back.

She didn't see Han Solo reach out his hand toward her, or the look of bleak disappointment on his face as she had hurried past—and slipped away from him.

####

At his first sight of him, Chewbacca worried that his friend had been more seriously injured than he'd first appeared; then he saw the little princess stalk off down the access corridor toward the crew quarters, and he understood what ailed the Corellian. The Wookiee's furry eyebrows gyrated and his black nose crinkled up as a small smile played around his lips. He wondered, briefly, as he stepped into the lounge, that if by the time the princess and the pilot finally sorted out their feelings for one another, they'd be too old to act on them.

Han Solo was once again slumped down on the bench behind the holotable, with one hand hanging limp at his side, the other dejectedly fingering the drink bulb filled with water. The Corellian stared glumly into the ship's small galley, though his eyes seemed to light up a little when he spied the cold box.

That would be a bad decision. Chewie knew that if his friend consumed the strong Devaronian ale currently in the cold box, on top of the pain meds he'd taken for his injuries, it could create a deadly combination for Han. He harrumphed loudly, attempting to draw Han's attention away from the enticing prospect of drowning the new and unfamiliar feelings he was experiencing for Leia with liquid comfort.

"What do you want?" Han's head jerked up at the sound of his friend's voice and he hurriedly straightened in his seat. "Don't tell me that now you want me to do something," he pronounced, scowling at his copilot. "A few minutes ago you told me I wasn't in any shape to do anything."

The Wookiee considered taking his friend to task for his surly attitude, but the man's physical discomfort, along with his obvious emotional pain—the kind that couldn't be alleviated by a pain patch—made him take a gentler approach. After all, it wasn't that long ago, at least in Wookiee terms, since Chewbacca had discovered how painful true love could be. Instead, he warbled conversationally as he squeezed himself onto the bench across the dejarik table from Han.

"Okay, five hours till we're back on that miserable ball of ice; I can't wait. Thanks for letting me know," Han sneered.

Chewie felt his hackles raise, and he struggled to bite back the sharp retort hovering on the tip of his tongue. _Patience_, he reminded himself. Leaning back, he barked out his concern over the _Falcon's_ hyperdrive, instead. The ship always had her idiosyncrasies, but a faulty hyperdrive could prove disastrous—to a smuggler, or to a member of the Rebel Alliance.

"My ship is just fine," Han snarled in reply. "I don't need you siding with her High and Mightiness, telling me what a piece of junk it is!"

_Enough! _Chewie thought angrily. He worked as hard as anyone, keeping the _Millennium Falcon_ spaceworthy, and if he had a concern about the hyperdrive, Han ought to take him seriously. Besides, he knew the _Falcon's_ fitness, or lack of it, had nothing to do with her pilot's bad humor.

The Wookiee snarled back at Han, showing just enough of his sharp white teeth to let Han know he was really angry.

"What?" the Corellian asked again. "What did I say this time?"

Chewie drew in a deep breath and plunged ahead, offering what he deemed to be an obvious piece of advice.

"What in the kriffing hells are you talking about? What makes you think I need to tell the princess anything about the way I feel? And feel about what?" Han's eyes shifted away from his friend's—a sure tell from the Corellian—letting the Wookiee know he was traveling down the right track.

Chewbacca paused to consider his next move; high stakes sabacc wasn't as tricky as this conversation was becoming. He'd been friends with Han long enough to know that if he said too much, the Corellian would close up completely. He warbled out a carefully considered possibility.

"Feelings?" Han scoffed. "Of course I have feelings for her; I'm gonna kill her someday!" He turned his head away, focusing in some unidentifiable spot across the hold.

Chewie could see the muscles in the smuggler's jaw work as he clenched his teeth. He found himself wondering how humans had gotten as far in the universe as they had; their emotions were so primitive. He felt his impatience rise again. While all humans appeared to suffer from emotional myopia, it seemed as if Han was particularly sense blind, although Leia appeared to be afflicted to the same degree. Well, he'd come this far, the Wookiee thought, he'd best just take it all the way. He awroofed his suspicion at the back of Han's head.

"I'm in—" Han stopped mid-sentence, glancing in the direction Leia had taken, before turning to glare at his friend. "You think I'm in love with her?" He struggled to look disbelieving. "You're crazy!"

The last of Chewie's patience vanished. He half rose from his seat, and raised his arms over his head. With an impressive display of flying hair and sharp teeth, the Wookiee made his case, each point peppered with an impressive variety of Shyriiwook invective.

As he concluded his argument, Chewbacca sat back down on the bench, never taking his eyes from his friend's battered face. _Well, _he thought, _that's done. Let's see what happens now._

For several interminably long moments, Han said nothing. His face set in an angry scowl, he only stared at the Wookiee, his chest rapidly rising and falling. Then, to Chewbacca's complete surprise, the smuggler slumped where he sat, dropping his face into his hands. Chewie awrooed a gentle question.

Pulling his hands away from his face, the look Han gave Chewie was fierce, but somehow forlorn. "Even if I am in love with her—which I'm not—what's the point? She's made it perfectly clear she's not interested in me."

Chewie swallowed a sigh. _A yearling cub had more sense than Han Solo! _He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. Maybe it would be better to just leave well enough alone; the two would figure it our eventually. Chewbacca looked at Han, who had returned his own gaze back to his drink bulb. Then again… Well, General Rieekan had made it clear that he would be happy to see the princess with Han, and he seemed to be an intelligent human. Chewie whuffed softly.

"Thanks for trying, pal," Han answered. "But the princess isn't afraid of anything. If you think she's scared because I have feelings for her, you're crazy." Han took a drink of water, carefully avoiding the sincere look on the Wookiee's face.

Chewie barked out a possibility. The look on Han's face as he turned to look at his friend was desperately hopeful.

"Maybe," Han said thoughtfully. "I suppose she's still kind of young…"

Chewie warbled encouragingly.

"Okay," Han concluded in a firmer voice. "Maybe I'll give it one more try." His bruised face assumed a more normal, confident grin. "I was doing pretty good with her at lunch," he observed. "I probably would have done even better if we hadn't been interrupted by that kriffing Falleen." Han said with certainty. "I think I made a pretty good impression on her with my charm."

Chewie only moaned, shaking his head in disbelief. Then he looked straight into his friend's eyes, and rumbled intensely, occasionally waving a hairy hand or tipping his head to one side for emphasis.

"You're joking, right?" Han asked when the Wookiee finished.

Chewie shook his head firmly in the negative.

"I should be nicer to her?" The Corellian's eyebrows moved upward in a fair imitation of his co-pilot's. "She should be nicer to me," Han declared. "Anyway, I tried nice with her already; you can see how far that got me." He waved his arm at the door to the crew quarters, which remained unyieldingly closed.

The Wookiee barked in irritation.

"I am not acting like a stupid cub," Han maintained as he glared at his first mate. Chewbacca, however, was used to dealing with his stubborn friend, and just glared back. Han looked away first, exhaling noisily through his nose.

"Okay," he conceded. "You may have a point. I shouldn't let my pride get in the way. After all," the Corellian offered with a smirk. "I am the adult in the relationship."

Chewie's guffaws echoed through the hold and out into the _Falcon's_ corridors.

####

Leia swatted her palm against the switch plate, and the door to the crew quarters swished shut, cutting off a rumbling honk of Wookiee laughter. The two smugglers were probably having a good laugh at her expense, she thought angrily.

No, that wasn't fair to Chewbacca, Leia chided herself. The big Wookiee was a gentle soul, and not the kind to be hurtful. Besides, he was always a perfect gentleman, especially toward her. Which was more than could be said about his Corellian friend.

Hoisting herself up onto the narrow bunk she'd claimed as hers, Leia indulged herself, letting her rage boil through her. It felt like steam swirling through a fumarole; she swore she could hear it hissing, searching for some way to escape. And just like the energy trapped beneath a planet's crust, her fury needed an outlet. Leia would have been happy to pace the small space of her quarters, but now that she was aware of their condition, she realized her feet hurt too much. She mouthed an unintelligible curse; the condition of her feet was just one more thing for which to blame Han Solo.

Leia pounded balled fists into the bunk, spitting out a teeth-baring oath. Everything was Han's fault—all of it! The bounty hunters, the mad escape from Ord Mantell, the difficulties Luke and Chewie had suffered getting the generators—and her sore feet—it all led back to the Corellian smuggler. If he weren't such an insufferable, overly-confident, reckless scoundrel…

Reaching down, Leia carefully peeled a tattered sock away from her bloody foot, little shards of duracrete and scree pattering down as she dropped the ruined footwear onto the deck. Grimacing a little, she dabbed at the wounds on her foot with a small rag she'd dampened in the 'fresher.

What in the name of all the galactic deities had been rattling around that thick Corellian skull of his when he'd gone tearing after that bounty hunter droid, Leia asked herself for the umpteenth time. She felt her indignation cool a little as she removed the other ruined sock and wiped at the scrapes and cuts on the sole of her other foot. The princess knew exactly what Han had been thinking; if he'd been thinking at all.

Han Solo had attacked IG-88 to protect her.

Leia felt the last of her anger dissipate as she became aware of a new, unfamiliar, and much more pleasant heat begin deep within her. It slowly spread up and through her extremities—Han had been willing to sacrifice himself for her. She quickly dismissed the distracting new feeling. She didn't need protecting; the fact that Han had been willing to risk his precious hide for her meant nothing. One noble act didn't make Han Solo any less of a scoundrel, did it? Of course not; she was crazy to think any different. It certainly didn't mean he cared for her…

_Gods! Could Han possibly feel…? _Leia banished the thought with a shiver. _And could she possibly be feeling the same thing toward…? _The princess quickly sent that thought to join its mate. Of course there were no feelings of _anything _between her and Han Solo. _Ridiculous! _Besides, there was a war to be won; she had no time for personal feelings. It was one thing to enjoy the sight of Han's broad shoulders, or to revel in the way his trousers clung to his admirable backside—after all, she was only human—but anything more…

Leia shook her head in disbelief at her own unruly emotions. _How in the hells did Han Solo always manage to do this to her? _Leia groaned inwardly. She had been a perfectly normal, rational woman before she met the Corellian.

"Leia, are you alright?"

With a start, the princess turned toward the voice. Luke Skywalker stood framed in the open doorway; his head tipped slightly to one side, farm boy innocence radiating off him. So maybe the groan hadn't been as inward as she'd believed.

"Of course I'm alright," Leia bit off, her angry, confused feelings finally making their escape. "I don't know why you have to ask."

"I was just thinking that your feet must be hurting." Luke pointed at her bare, scraped feet. His gentle blue eyes were wide with confusion, and tinged with hurt.

She quickly looked down at the ruined sock she still clutched in her hand, hoping to hide the flicker of embarrassment she felt. She had no right to make Luke bear the brunt of her hot feelings; Han bore full responsibility for those. She was a seasoned diplomat, she informed herself, the least she could do was act like one. Pulling the cool, recycled ship's air into her lungs, Leia softened her scowl to a smile.

"They just look bad," Leia lied. "I hardly feel anything." She dropped the other sock to the deck, where it joined its ruined fellow with a spatter of dust and debris. "How's your arm?" she asked him, indicating his torn sleeve with a nod of her head. "I hope you took care of it."

"Yeah." Luke hopped up onto the bunk opposite Leia. "It really was nothing, like I said." He pulled off his jacket, revealing one rolled up sleeve. A bandage was wrapped skillfully around the burn wound. "Chewie and Han helped me with it."

Of course Han helped him. Leia could feel the heat start inside her again. He worries about everyone but himself. With difficulty, she swallowed down the angry lump in her throat. _Just don't think about him, Organa!_

Luke watched her for a moment, a faint frown marring his features. "Well, at least we got the generators. General Rieekan will be happy," he said into the awkward silence that filled their quarters. "Chewie was amazing."

Leia felt some of the tension ease out of her body; she'd be happy to talk about Chewie. She smiled and nodded in agreement.

Thus encouraged, Luke continued to detail Chewbacca's heroic behavior. "You know, he loaded those generators all by himself. He said he wasn't going to leave them behind." Luke smiled and leaned forward confidentially. "I know that Chewie wants to become an official member of the Alliance," he continued. "And he would, except for Han."

Startled, Leia looked up from tending her foot to stare at Luke. "Did he tell you that?" she asked him.

The young man shifted a little in his seat. "Not in so many words," he admitted. "But Leia, you've said it yourself; Han is reckless, and he isn't willing to commit to anything."

Leia felt the muscles in her chest tighten. How could Luke say those things about Han? Han, who was Luke's best friend. In the past two years, the pilot had taught Luke about maintaining a spacecraft, and given him tips on combat flying; the smuggler had coached the farm boy about the game of sabacc and about picking up women; the man had risked his life for his friend, and for the Rebellion, perhaps more times than the princess could count.

Two standard hours ago, he'd risked his life for her.

How dare Luke say those things about Han? But Leia knew she couldn't really fault the young man; after all, she'd said the same things about Han herself, sometimes even to his face. The weight in her chest increased, pressing on her heart. She wondered how _she'd_ dared say those things.

"Leia!"

The princess drew in and expelled one shaky breath, then another. Her vision cleared and the rushing in her ears dissipated as she became aware of Luke's hand on her shoulder, his worried face near to hers.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. "For a second I thought you were going to pass out."

For a second, so had she. "I'm fine," said Leia. "Really," she added, noting the dubious look on Luke's face.

"You're sure you don't need me to get Chewie? Or Han?"

"No!" Leia objected loudly. The last thing she needed right now was a visit from Han Solo. "No," she repeated in a more moderate tone. "I'm really fine." She smiled a little. "My feet do hurt a little, and it's been a busy day." She looked at Luke, her eyes not quite meeting his. "I think I'd like to take a nap, if you don't mind." Her gaze moved to the closed door.

The young man took the hint. He grabbed his jacket and opened the door. "I'll just go see if Chewie needs anything," he said as he left.

Leia twisted herself around, and she did indeed lay down as the door slid shut behind Luke. She stared at the bolts in the ceiling as she tried to calm her thoughts. She knew there was no way she could sleep, not with her thoughts chasing each other through her head at faster-than-light speeds.

_How could I have let this happen, _she wondered in disbelief. Because, there was no denying that it _had_ happened: Leia had real feelings for Han. Not just the affection one felt for a close friend, though those feelings were part of the mix. No, she shuddered, what she felt for the Corellian smuggler was parsecs beyond the love for a friend.

For several long moments, Leia allowed the new, unexpected feelings to course through her unchecked—the pain and the comfort, the heat and the attraction—the love.

"No!" Leia cried out, her despair echoing off the bulkhead walls. She raised herself up in the bunk, hugging her knees to her heaving breast. _No!_ This was a path she wouldn't follow, a path that she couldn't follow.

Willing herself back to calmness, the princess took control of her errant emotions. She had learned as a child that duty came before all else—especially personal wants and needs. She was a princess of Alderaan. Moreover, she was the last princess of Alderaan. As that princess, she would take her feelings for Han and wall them away, sequestering her love for him in the same dungeon where she hid her feelings of grief, of longing, and of joy.

Leia lay down on her side, facing the bulkhead. She slowly counted her breaths and waited for their arrival back at Echo Base.


End file.
